One Week Later

The epic adventure is taking time to process. So much seen and heard. What was the norm over five weeks is now slapping me up the side of the head. Excessive space, excessive stuff contrasts sharply.

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Pat succumbs too.

NOTE: this pic was taken mere hours before a 30+ hour stint in airports/and planes on return to Canada.

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Deborah goes Indian
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Life could be worse

Is it really November? Didn't pack a bathing suit and forgot to grab a towel; undeterred, Deborah and I are playing in the warm waves of the indian ocean. Waiting for a plate of fresh tiger prawns and grilled kalamari, served beachside.
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Muthu
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Foot massage from Braseena under way...
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goodbye Bangalore, hello Goa

Sitting on a plane at Bengalore airport for last leg of journey. Yoga, beaches, prawns. Staying at a national aruyvedic health centre where Deborah has been taking cooking classes for the last few days. Wonder what's in store? Have been receiving many messages counting down the days til my return. Nice to know I'm missed...but am reticent to leave. Family and relationships define the very core of this country. So many with so little have touched in an unforgetable way. Plane is taxi-ing. Switching off.

Ancient twist on spas.

Back to roughing it for the duration. Insect repellent and mozzie nets. A soggy rice paddy sits directly in front of this place. First impressions? Strikes me as a psuedo-spa albeit with a 5,ooo year history. This aryuvedic centre is owned and operated by a pip-squeak-sized doctor who studied the art and science of this ancient all-natural practice for 9 yrs. Has a staff of 200. According to Jules, a UK fan of this place who rode the car with me from the airport, the young attendants (typical spa worker types) earn a whopping 100 rupees a month (less than 2.50 cdn).
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ANHC

The "lobby" of the "health centre"
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Re: [TRAVELS w/P] Crazy for Kabini

Spotted this Monday morning: Mongoose, guar, 45ish year old elephant with huge tusks, early 20s elephant scratching its legs on a dry tree limb! Resting on 3 legs, watching us. Serpent eagle. Blue kingfisher. Wild boar. Painted storks, grey herons, peacocks and pea hens. Deer. Fresh tiger scat. A LEOPARD!!! So glad I went for safari again rather than boat cruise. We were the only jeep to see the cat - they're just as elusive as tigers. Only three of us in the jeep. Word spread fast. We were celebs when we returned from safari. The other two (father and son) have been going to this lodge for 23 years and never spotted a wild cat. They were thrilled. Got some awesome pics.

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Kids checking out pic (on my camera) of leopard in tree. YES!!! Saw a leopard in the wild. How cool is THAT?!
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Muthu

I seem to be taken under wing. Muthu arrived at my doorstep late morning to keep me company. He phoned home so I could speak with his wife, his son, his mother and sister. An invitation was extended to visit at their home. I hope to do so when returning to Bengalore. Watched monkeys dive from cruise boat roof into the water, submerge completely and pop up elsewhere. The camera was charging, damn. They sure put on a good show. It seemed they wanted an audience. Walked the resort nature trail. Muthu led the way, beating the ground ahead of him with a stick. Leah M, I suspect the notion of snakes here would have you confined to manicured well cleared spaces. Saw a mini komodo-type lizard, a big fat bug, large spindly spider, butterflies of all sorts of colours and sizes. Off for a third jeep safari shortly...
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Swimming monkeys! Dove off a boat, underwater paddling. Crazy.
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Who knew monkeys swim?!
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Early morning travel to the park: we pass flowers of every conceivable colour. Moon flowers grow wild here and are still open. Pass fields of cotton and sugar cane, banana, coconut and mango groves. Villagers are just waking. Children at community well collecting water. Cocky roosters crowing and ruffling feathers at side of road. Passed one home where family of 8 (?) still sleeps - together, clothed, on mats outdoors under thatched roof.

Morning mist just lifting from forest floor. Ant hills shaped like sandcastles, some as tall as me. Worn paths leading from interior jungle to well trod watering holes. Jungle fowl (wild chicken). Towering teakwood and rosewood and sandalwood trees. Just passed a wild boar and skittish spotted deer with a huge rack, one waddling the other leaping and bounding. Golden orioles flit. Dang! Met up with another jeep; they just spotted a tiger!! Incredibly elusive. Seldom seen. Missed by mere moments. Sitting quietly now in same vicinity. Patient. Hopeful. Guides are excited by the sighting. Eyes peeled.... Another wild boar. Peacock. Languar (monkey) in tree. Wild dog chasing deer.

Awww. Back on the main road to resort. Could easily, happily spend entire day parked anywhere in this space, listening, breathing deeply, watching.

In this region I've noticed the villagers paint and decorate the horns of their cows. Seemingly across India January 15 is a festival day of the bull, an honoured deity. Everything appears worthy of honour in this wonder land.

At dinner last nite, sat with a handsome young couple from Bangalore (both are high tech engineers). One week newly wed. Three day wedding, 1000+ guests. Have known each other six months. Arranged marriage. Told them about the strange temple of many painted elephants happened upon during earlier travels. They suggested this place may have been practising black magic - Veda voodo if you will. Curious to research more about this.

Pilgrimage Epilogue + Kabini Jungle Lodge

Sitting on the shores of Kabini Lake. Lots of exotic bird and insect sounds. Sun has just set. Two hour+ safari outing spotted two herd of grazing elephants. Wild boar. Spotted/dotted deer. Peacocks. Yellow-footed something or other birds and green parakeets at a salt pit. Herons. An indigo bluebird. A few variety of monkeys.

EPILOGUE - During safari #1 thoughts went to Margo, who, with her cracked ribs, would not have enjoyed the ride. Damn dancing on curbs in Bodh Gaya during Diwali! Nor Deborah who suffered stomach churn extreme, also in Bodh Gaya. No curd (yogurt) for a long while huh D?!
Wouldn't have been much of a problem for me unless taking safari on one of those days when a rabies shot had been administered and the woozies took over. Yep. Unprovoked dog attack - tore my pants, left three good gashes (Sunday Oct 24 while walking w/Yvonne thru a village outside Sarnath). Thank heavens for the kindly villagers who rushed me by motorbike to an Rx stall where the chemist cleaned and bandaged wounds as worried onlookers watched. For Dr. Jain's efforts to get me to a doctor/pharmacist speedy pronto and especially Dr. Lynn for her ongoing care to all of us.
Holiday, Lynn? What holiday?! Ah, such are the joys of being in medicine, tho that knowledge can wreak havoc with the ol' psyche when trekking thru yucky muck. Yvonne might have experienced motion sickness, especially if taking safari on an empty stomach. Pappadams, peeled apple or some interesting snack to the rescue? Hopefully no monkeys around to catch the scent of food. (Monkeys aren't so cute when they want the munchies you're carrying - right Ken?) Gosh, good ol' Ken would just marvel at the wildlife. He might also find more hungry bugs biting (to add to the collection acquired enmass at the Goya train station). The clean air here would be a respiratory reprieve for Deborah, Ken, Margo and Yvonne who each battled lung/cold issues.
As for Norman, well, anything's possible. Who knows, he may or may not have gotten to wherever the safari was going to take him, and would get there whenever he got there (perhaps without breakfast, tho).

We all had our buttons pushed at one time or another. But we were the Teflon Team. Nothing stuck other than fantastic memories shared with fab new friends.

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Earlier today, Nov 13 - Palace of Wodeyar maharajas in Mysore (which, by the way is a vastly cleaner and more visibly affluent city than any other yet visited).
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Omg, Kabini jungle lodge is beautiful.
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Mysore

Have just checked into The President hotel: luxury! An elevator. Nicely appointed room too, with a soft queen size bed. Stopped for lunch at a great indian veg spot with piquant treats. A tasty dal dessert spiced with whole cloves. Meal isn't sitting too well tho. Fingers, toes, eyes and sundry limbs crossed that it's nothing more than heartburn. Heading out shortly. LATER...back again. Snuck into an incredible natural oil/incense factory that, as it turns out, supplies the Body Shoppe with the oils used to manufacture their fragrances. Sat at a table sniffing all sorts of scents. Mmmhhmm! Saw two women hand-rolling incense; seemingly they hand produce some 8,000 sticks each, daily. Drove to a mountain-top Hindu Temple honouring the universal goddess, Chamundi, and a sculpture of Shiva's bull, Nandi, carved from one huge rock. Then to a former royal maharaja palace turned hotel. Tonite, tho, was the best. Crazy nuts. Muthu took us to Brindavan Gardens, a park at the base of a 120ft high dam. The crowds were HUGE - felt gropping hands in the thick of it all. Tsk tsk! Muthu did his best to keep us moving. Turns out those throngs had shown up to watch illuminated fountains "dance" to Bollywood hits. When the lights dimmed and the show began, the crowds roared like one expects to hear at a raucus concert. Incredible !ndia at it again.
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Bangalore

First impressions: it appears on the surface to be very western, influenced no doubt by the software industry that drives the economy. Hwy signs even encourage drivers to "follow lane discipline". Lots of billboard advertising like TO. Ads designed to appeal to those of means, using words like "priviledged, prestigious." Reinforcement of the caste system. Conversely in Varanassi, noticed a motorbike ad: "worth the 16 year wait" and product price. Took that to mean it would take the average Muhamad-blow that long to save enough rupees. My driver for the next few days, Muthu (name means: the pearl), was quick to tell me he's from Tamil Nadu. While writing this, he's buying a toy car for his son from a tout who approached the car. Haggled from 60Rs to two for 30! Anyhow, gonna sit back and enjoy the four hour ride to Mysore. Weary. These 4 (today) and 5 and 6 a.m. mornings are taxing.
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Yvonne's eye-candy.
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Serious shopping!!
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Awwwww, our last super together. Hard to believe the pilgrimage is officially over. Lynn leaves for Montreal tonite. I head for Bengalore at 4am, Deborah catches her flight to Goa three hours later. Ken heads to Dharamasala via bus, Yvonne to Bhopal via train, and Lynn and Norman via Continental Air to Guelph tomorrow night. Safe home all. Namaste. Epilogue about those intentionally untold stories to follow.
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The dishwashers
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Lunch time crowds at the popular fast food stall
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A yum delish lunch taken on the street at a popular local haunt. Don't know what it's called, just pointed at another customer's plate and paid 30 rupees (about 9 cents).
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Ken sneaks a call home (caught in the act as I sip a chai from the local street vendor)
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It's always something - either festivals or protests. This pic's of a protest directly outside our Delhi hotel today.
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Another view. Parrots are all about, chattering away.
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Can you spot the parrot?! Now at fatehpur sikir, an ancient gated community robust in the 1500s
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Agra Fort - unprecedented decadence: harem quarters, a portable stone "hot tub" carried by elephants, marble walls inlaid with precious jewels.... Inspiration behind the Taj
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Waiting for early morning train.
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catch up: Taj Mahal and the power of love

We're at a restaurant now for lunch, having beat out the masses to visit the Taj Mahal. A delicate flower carved into the marble wall (one of hundreds of thousands) struck volumes - this monument to beloved wife number two really and truly is an outrageously demonstrative act of love. A marvellous "world wonder" to be sure. Security to get in is as rigorous if not more so than that at airports. Taj is considered a prime terrorist target. Electric buses ferry passengers (to cut down on exhaust fumes and subsequent damage to the white marble - which is colouring grey and rust). No gas fuelled vehicles allowed within a 5km (?) radius. Nonetheless, the air was heavy haze. Funny to be able to see the air around you (Delhi, Agra and such sure get up your nose). Funny too, to find ourelves surrounded by myriad other westerners. We'd been sticking out like sore thumbs for so long and now we we're back in a majority setting. Still, for some reason as Deborah, Lynn, Norm and I sat beneath a magnificent arch enjoying our surroundings, we were inundated with requests to pose with Indian tourists. Found myself posing umpteen times with one group of teen/20-something women (me?- posing!). Saw camel-drawn carts and the usual monkeys.

After lunch to the massive mughal sandstone fort which Taj architects and craftsmen clearly used as their benchhmark for excellence. Stunning. Unfortunately could not bring BB into either site. Made up for it at the abandoned mughal city/slash/national 15th century capital of Fatepur Sikri. All of us exhausted, took time to rejuvenate over late afternoon dessert, which then led to some serious shopping. Train back to Delhi, we fell into bed sometime after midnight.

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Gritty Goya railway station beggar, fingers missing.

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food and more musings

While sitting on train thought to capture more. Food for instance. A carnivore and wino, haven't missed a morsel of meat or spot of red. Typical fare: dal (soupy lentils), veggies in curry or some sort of spiced sauce - aloo gobi (potatoe and cauliflower) a mainstay, eggplant in a variety of ways - a group favourite! Okra. Paneer (cheese) with creamed spinach. Warm chipati (sorta like pita) or deep fried poori (also sorta like pita, but puffy) to soak up the sauces. And rice. Lots of carb. In Tibetan regions it's steamed momas stuffed with veg (cabbage and whatever other available veg/or/cheese and spinach) - similar to dim sum dumplings or perogies. Also enjoy thantuk - a broad flat noodle in veg broth (served in pho-size portions). Have had an occassional samosa or pakora but stay away from deep-fried as much as possible. Chai tea has become an addiction, for Ken especially. Best from street vendors. Banannas, apples san skin and pomegranites our primary source of raw/fresh. All of us have commented on how much we look forward to fresh green salad! Well, looks like we're close to our destination. Later.

Five a.m. sure comes fast, especially when the alarm doesn't go off, you wake from a hot flash and find out you have 15 mins! Now sleep-sitting at the train station. So, here goes catch up:

SUNDAY NOV 7 - after sending off an early morning note via cyber cafe, returned to mohabodi temple. Snapped lots of pics. Found a quiet spot to sit under "the" bodhi tree. Two Tibetan nuns accepted request to bless mala picked up along the journey. Taking beads in hand they knelt at the north side of the bodhi tree where Buddha is believed to have attained enlightenment. They chanted and bowed and chanted for some 20 mins. When returning the mala, in broken English too muddled to follow, they tried to explain what they'd done. Something to do with three repetitions and light and ???... What I could understand was that the blessing was special, not a typical thing. Moved nearly to tears, big frog in throat, I offered a donation and a simple leaf that had fallen from the tree to my feet. They refused both, bowing and wishing me a "good life."

MON NOV 8 - last day in bodh gaya. A Sri Lankan contingent have moved into town for annual pilgrimmage to clothe and feed and provide other necessities to monks. Many robed monks are staying at our hotel, the Mahayana, which is owned by a local Tibetan monastery. Many of the front desk workers are former monks. It strikes me a bit odd to see monks wandering the streets here purchasing tourist trinkets and the likes. Oogling the sites and sounds and tastes like the rest of us.

Took a photo of soldiers spinning prayer wheels at the stupa site (but can't post). Military presence has become dramatically visible. BBC press vehicle moved into town two days ago. Seemingly elections are imminent and all transport in and out of this area will be restricted. Tension between Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists is cause for concern. We're leaving around 7:30 to catch a night train back to Delhi. A good time to "get outta town."

In afternoon we visited a school in a severely depressed area where a good number of the younger residents beg for a living. Parents didn't want them attending school, preferring the rupees they'd bring home over education. Over time this mindset is changing, thankfully, and in fact children are bringing home what they learn, taking on role of teacher to their parents.

Then took a drive to a remote village where women have organized to improve their lives, collectively. They offer small loans to one another, rather than turn to the streets as prostitutes or beggars. One told the story of borrowing 40 ruppes (about 10 cents) to purchase supplies for a wee vendor stall. It took three months to pay back the loan. Her stall has since grown in size and offerings, earning some 6,000 Rs. Another told the story of using her loan to buy a cow. She sells the milk and dung. Both reported their husbands were resistant at first, angry even. But once money started coming in.... To get to this village, we pulled up to the edge of a rice field. Walked along a worn footpath, snake slithering into the paddies, passing towering stands of bamboo, giant banyan trees and lots of gleeful children hopeful one of us would take their pic.

Before heading out to catch our train, I returned to the stupa one last time taking a seat on a bench overlooking the grounds. Tibetan faithful in the midst of 100,000 prostrations. The tree near where I sat was roosting place for a huge flock of loud nattering birds. Chanting in all directions. Muslim call to prayer sounding off in the dustance. An old Tibetan monk on the bench beside me, praying aloud with a deep gutteral voice. What a cacophony of exotic sound.

LATER: sitting on luggage at gritty Goya railway station waiting to catch a sleeper coach at 10:30. Been here a few hours now. Beggars are testing our compassion quotient. One, a man with no fingers. Chopped off for bad behaviour? Leprosy? Watching rats forage through the dust and filth. Bugs are hungry. Lots of bites on toes, ankles and legs. Fingers, palms and wrists. Regularly spraying deet but not sure of its efficacy. Armed police are mulling around. Yvonne and Norman made to move under less than friendly terms. Suppose it has something to do with the fact that we've plunked ourselves in front og police headquarters. Yeesh! These men in uniform are grossing me out. Hawking away. Pulling up phlegm from down deep and spitting as though a sport.
Train is 30 mins late...errr, make that 50 mins off schedule... Now 12:15 am. A coal train sits on the tracks where the Delhi-bound should be... Ahhh 12:45 am. Luggage chained, berth bed made up, train's a rock'n. Lights out. Good night.

musings and catch up

Tonite's dinner conversation turned again to the difficulties posting or emailing via BB. Could cyber monitoring be a factor given that I seem to be able to receive but have difficulty sending? Am I, in fact, receiving all incoming communication? Perhaps Obama's recent visit? In anycase I've decided to key in the commentaries that accompany the pics I can't seem to email or upload. Will start tomorrow. An early day ahead. Meeting at 5 am to catch a train to Agra. It's our day for the mandatory visit to the Taj Mahal.

Something's amiss with my ability to post here and to send emails to select recipients. It's been suggested that perhaps I'm being blocked. This is, after all, Canadian RIM technology and I seem to recall some sort of too-ing and fro-ing between corporation and country. Then again, maybe it's imaginative surmising. Whatever. A dissapointment nonetheless not to be able to share pics and great stories over the last week. Will continue to see if I can work around this.

Tuesday, November 9- on a sleeper coach now, returning to New Delhi. Have tried to post lots of pics with commentary, however unreliable service has left them lost in cyberspace. With luck they'll eventually find their way here, albeit in a haphazard chronologically mangled manner. Upon return to the city some of the group may be scrambling in a shopping frenzy. I've picked up odds and ends along the way so no worries for me. Thinking of checking out the Delhi underground. Ride the metro to destinations unknown. Mmmm, a surprise snack has just arrived, the most enticing pieces are unwrapped - handled by questionable hygenic hands. Guess it's a pass on those, tho my bunk mate Lynn just chowed down on one. Train, by the way, is a good hour and a half behind schedule.

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A very tough negotiator
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Today is Sunday November 7th. It's 8:45 in the morning here in Bodh Gaya.I'm sitting beside a Tibetan monk in an Internet cafe. Sorry to all who have written lately. Been unable to use the old Black Berry since Rajgir, some days back. Not sure what if any posts have made it here to this blog. Will have a look see after this post. Bodh Gaya is other worldly. It's teaming with monks and nuns of every conceivable buddhist tradition, and then some. Pilgrims a plenty too. Add in the fact that this is Dhiwali, the indian equivalent of Xmas, and it's sheer chaos. Wonderful!!!! Love it tons.

The crowds are so thick it's regular to find ones self caught in a pedestrian traffic jam. Followed a nun out of the throngs yesterday, funny how she managed to part the crowds. She was as delightfully befuddled.

Yesterday was - hmm - words escape, wonderful to be sure. Our group wandered through the "downtown" part of Bodh Gaya to the dried up river bed, followed the shoreline, wove back into a nearby village and found ourselves in the midst of a "mela" akin to our country fairs.

Couldn't resist trying a sweet treat - batter curled into a vat of boiling oil, deep fried and then dipped into another huge vat of honey. Sweet bliss. The locals gathered round me to watch my reaction, breaking into grins of delight at my delight. Tried some pakora too, an Indian version of vegetable tempura - spicey delish. Same local reaction, crowds gathering round. In fact that was the theme there as they never ever see Westerners in their villages. Felt odd to be such a curiousity.

As Lynn and I wandered back to town a young boy in his early teens asked us to please come to visit his home. Remembering that this is an honour for the hosts, and of course being a curious sort, I instantly accepted. Lynn was a tad cautious, but her fears were quelled the moment we stepped into the common sitting area where a psychedelic painted goat was munching hay. Our young host proudly showed us his bedroom - mud walls, painted, decorated with deity posters and a book shelf. The other bedroom pretty much the same. His mother offered us chai, while his sister and sister-in-law grabbed plastic lawn chairs, ushering us to sit. In due course big brother came home. Some half hour later father came home too. The hospitatality bowled us over. Touching to the enth. So generous with so little to offer. Their graciousness the most treasured experience of all. Humbling.

uh oh, the computer here is telling me the blogger site is not accessible. Damn, I hope this gets through so that worrying back home is allayed. This place, incredible India, is indeed incredible, a place that makes me very, very happy. You can't be anything but grateful. Love to all xo

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Morning at vultures peak
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"Om tayatha gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhi svaha." Mantra of the perfection of wisdom (heart sutra from Avalokeiteshvara- a beloved Tibetan deity). Gone gone, gone beyond, gone completely beyond, awakened.
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Rules and such

In addition to the sights and sounds and tastes and smells and heat, these travels are also very much contemplative. So many passing observations, thoughts. How, for instance, cows, pigs, goats dogs and people cohabitate, often times the animals in superior conditions. How in turn this gives cows (and yaks and water buffalo) in particular, a sense of entitlement- evident in their ownership over the streets.

Another thing that's gob smacked us is rules. But what if there aren't any rules? In incredible India, as their marketing slogan goes, there don't appear to be any. Sure, rules govern chaos and give a foundation for justice from a western point of view, but have we gone overboard?
* Dogs on leashes, licensed no less vs strays too many.
* Jay walking vs cutting into the flow when you can.
* Driving down a four lane hwy obeying speed limits vs a four lane road with vehicles travelling in all directions. Speed limits?!

To see billboards: "Human trafficking is a crime and a serious offence" - the fact that this message needs saying simply slaps a western mind silly.

On a more elementary level, there's no respect for pachu mama - the young boy who took a piece of gum and tossed the pckg, the picnicking family who did the same with their garbage - seemingly tied to the caste system- garbage being a lowly cast responsibility vs our north american fines for littering.
* "No loitering" vs nothing else to do.
* Need drugs? No Rx needed here. Just walk into the nearest chemist stall and get whatever you want for mere rupees.
* The way crowds line up for temple vs empty pews.

Conversely, rules here seem to crop up in the strangest bureaucratic ways. The toll booths monitored and controlled by 3 or 4 people for each car. The sexist values. The religious protocol.

Then there are observations like...
* The incompetent traffic cop who did more to snarl traffic at a construction site than alleviate it.
*Wading thru human faeces because the infrastructure doesn't exist.
* Few women seen in the driver's seat of a vehicle.
* Their lives - men, women and children - spent outdoors, in community (ironing, cooking, bathing, peeing and pooing, grieving). The thought of rural women, menstruating without any running water. No privacy.
* And the dirt. How does one tell a tidy housekeeper from one not so clean?

Yes, this entry is verbal diarrhoea (sp) - that's because Deborah, Margo and me are room mates in a Thai monastery in Rajgir and they're helping to write this brain dump, if you will. The leaking shower facet in our bathroom sounds like a rainforest in the background. Gonna be an interesting white noise to fall to sleep to. Oh to hear those gonging bells in Sarnath. Wonder if we'll hear chanting monks in the morning?
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Sitting under the shade of a soulk tree in Niranda, an ancient (bc) university that taught buddhist monks subjects ranging from medicine and philosophy to astronomy and metaphysics. Mahayan (sp) buddhism originated here, taking firm root in Tibet. As I write this, a few local gents (I use that term loosely) including a security guard, have joined me at this bench.... After a few photos, a squirt of deet to my ankles and those of one of my bench visitors, and hand to heart exchanges of namaste I was on my merry way with nary a glitch. The others are being pestered for money and food. Anyhow, it's something to think of this site being such an academic force in its day. Destroyed by muslim warriors, it's said the library with its volumes of work burned for some six months.
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Today was a welcome "do as you please" day. To backtrack a bit, last night we watched a puja (prayer celebration) - a hindu tradition to put the Ganges to bed. Performed nightly. At 5 this morning the bells chimed to waken the holy river. It was lovely to listen to but didn't roll out of bed til after 9. Spent time visiting with a Sadu and his delightful companion, Julia, a 2 year old monkey. She sat on my lap, picking lint from my clothing, grooming as I tickled and stroked her silky coat. Waaay sweet. Explored the area on my own as far as my feet would take me. Happened upon an awesome gallery and a treasure trove of goodies. Suitcase is getting heavy and rather full with three weeks still to go. Dins together at a funky spot that definitely operates on India time. As we were about to leave a truck drove by spraying a cloud of chemical to kill mozzies. Margo to the rescue with masks for all. Now in bed for an early departure tomorrow.
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What a "shitty" day. Literally. The stench was such that a scarf came in handy as a filter. And you daren't walk around without keeping an eye on the ground lest you step into a mound of human waste, or cow or goat or dog crap. Walking along the shore of the Ganges following a monsoon that left steps buried under silty sludge was at times gross to the extreme. Runoff from the city splashed and spilled and pooled in places that made it impossible to keep clean feet. Lynn had me laughing out loud as she walked through an especially mucky section (likely teaming with filthy nasties). Fingers splayed, looking not quite horrified, but clearly beside herself, feet sinking with each step. "Oh god...oh god...oh god...!"
Then there were the beggars who followed like shadows- mothers holding the tiniest frail babies with vacant staring eyes. Or sporting unimaginable deformities. Panhandlers tenacious as pit bulls. Throngs of people jostling for a slice of road.
Sadus - holy men with long greasy hair, minimal clothing, maximum lung capacity for ganga to help speed up enlightenment. It was mind bending. A distortion of proportions unparalleled at home. And to be shopping in the thick of all this?
Then came the late afternoon visit to Harishchandra ghat- a cremation ghat. Watching remnants of bodies - the hips of women, the chests of men "bone with meat" taken from the embers and tossed into the Ganges to perpetuate the circle of life (fish food). Watching the first born sons of the deceased starting the fires, pacing as their loved one's body turned to ash, finalizing the ceremonial farewell by dousing the fire. The bodies of dead women draped in red cloth; men in gold; though come time for cremation, they're all simply shrouded in white cotton. Their faces viewed a few times more as they're laid out on the stacked heap of wood. Sandalwood shavings sprinkled over the body to keep down the smell. Bones visible. Generations one after the next charged with managing the cremation site for centuries now. Their offspring, young boys of 8 or 9 or 10, playing around the ghat, oblivious to the solemn significance, learning at the hands of their fathers and uncles and brothers. Visiting the temple/hut where the flame that sets these bodies ablaze has been burning for as long as the tradition itself. Phew. What a day.

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Tubby time
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The day has begun
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A body either pure enough not to require burning (a sadu, child, pregnant woman...) Or one too poor to afford the price.
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Not yet 7am. Pyres of fire burning at central cremation point on Ganges.
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Holy crap this hotel is stunning. To quote the description in Lonely Planet: "simply gorgeous, this beautifully restored and maintained colonial-style house overlooking Assi Ghat is crammed with books, artwork and antiques." Each of our bedrooms is uniquely decorated with sumptuous raw silks, deep dark carved wood, sculptures, hand woven rugs, delicate cotton-print bed spreads, hand-painted wall and ceiling murals. Margo and I share a room with a view of the Ganges. Tomorrow we're to be up and at the foot of the Ghat to catch sunrise and a boat to the cremation pyres further along shore. Then it's off to the silk and cotton and carpet bazaars...
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Wooo hoo! We're all re-energized; six hysterical westerners after spotting our first elephant. We're on our way to Varanasi, an intense place where "untouchables" cart around the dead, cremation in full view, bodies and human waste floating on the Ganges, putrid smells, in-your-face poverty. Hopefully we can catch moments of sleep for what's ahead. This drive though is pandemonium (sp). We've travelled 45kms in three hours. Another 155 kms to go. The driver is darting and dodging and lurching and blaring his horn like a man gone mad. Gravol is today's blessing.
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At a crossroad nearing Varanasi, the street is swarming with police in riot gear and curious onlookers. There's been a shooting here- something to do with elections

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"I'm not dead, just old."
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It's nightfall. Bags are packed for a 6am breakfast and early departure for Varanassi.
What an inspiring day. Sublime serenity. Spent the better part of the afternoon participating in an auspicious Tibetan festival, enthralled with the ritual. The gentle sweeping of hands, snap of fingers. Whispered prayers and soft hums. Lighting of incense, stick pointed toward the front buddha altar. Prostrations. Moving to a second room to light oil lanterns. Holding thumb to pinky with palm outstretched to receive grains of rice, tossing the blessing into the air. Tinkling of bells, trumpeting horns, clanging cymbals, rhythmic bell clicks to keep chant time. Offerings many. The handsome dark haired monk (we ladies concurred - johnny depp pales in comparison). Tibetan women showing how to move mala beads, offering rugs to cushion the sitting. The gracious apple dumpling woman nodding recognition, gesturing with encouragement. Her elders following suit. Sitting through a full cycle of chant. Meeting the radiantly happy Abbot, sharing a few moments - enough to steal a photo. Sweet. Simple. Pleasure.

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At this very moment I'm sitting in the very spot where the buddha spoke his last words. The powerful energy here escapes words. Calm and awesome both at once
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The entrance grounds to our lodgings in Kushinigar. I'm sitting in the spacious lobby, morning sunlight streaming in, chanting echoing: "buddhang, saranang gacchani, dhammang saranang gacchani, sanghang saranang gacchani"
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"All conditioned things are of a nature to decay - strive on untiringly." The last words spoken at "a miserable little town of wattle-and-daub, right in the jungle in the back of beyond." We have beern sitting for some two hours listening to Norman reading the final discourse. Unlike the others, who appear to be accepting of these readings, inclined to the teachings, past skepticism resurfaces. Doctrine, man-made rules, ego-centricism, hmmmmm. That said, the calming stillness at this site cannot be denied. As we sat at the foot of the golden buddha statue in reclining death pose a group of Tibetans arrived to pay hommage. A moment in my own nirvana.Their devotion utterly mesmerizing.Captured some awesome photos. Exchanged pleasantries and took photos of a couple of nuns, illiterate. They led me to an english speaking monk who wrote out their address so that I can forward photos. It smacks me up the side of the head to witness the delight digital images bring to those from wattle-and-daub villages and towns.

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After a 12 hour drive through abject poverty, we find ourselves checking into luxurious comfort at The Imperial in Kushnigar.
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...where are we?! "We're here." We've been travelling in the minibus for a while now. Left svarsti just after 7am, stopping at the place where sidhartha gautama (aka the buddha) led a sheltered highly priviledged life prior to setting out for answers - Kapilavastu. The stupa dates back to the 5th century BC. In the early 70s archaeologists dug into the stupa and discovered a casket and relics with inscription identifying the renains as those of the buddha and also naming the people who placed them there. Fragrant gardens were alive with flitting black and saffron butterflies. A pink lotus pond the perfect place for quiet contemplation. Back on the road, we passed through myriad dry, dusty villages. People are constantly traversing the shoulders, from where they're coming or to where they're going is anyone's guess. Despite the grimey filth, women are immaculately groomed, their colourful saris punctuate the monochromatic dusted greenery. Pulling off the road for a pitstop, we found ourselves visiting a most unusual elephant temple. Rows of sculpted elephants; different sizes, colours, graphic patterns. Village children clamoured around those of us with our cameras hoping we'd take their pic, squealing with laughter at their images. We're now somewhere, in the thick of unmoving traffic. Truck drivers ahead and behind stand outside their vehicles. No hurries. No worries.

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...Sunset...
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Dr Lynn at sunset in sravasti following a full day of monkeys, meditation, dharma,spicy dahl and paneer, tales about a devotee purchasing land from an ancient prince by covering the property in gold coins, a frightening murderer who wore a garland of fingers of his victims but changed his ways after meeting Buddha, and a challenge between Buddha and another sage involving magical mango trees, golden pathways, levitation and cloning. Full heads to be sure.
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Monday oct 24- en route to a rermote village, Sravasti. By public transport it takes some 3 days. Via taxi-van we're planning on anywhere from 7 to 12 plus hrs. We just encountered our first snag 86 kms away from destination. Main hwy, if you can call it that, is closed and we have to take a detour. Barb (hopefully newly elected Reeve of Haliburton) I'm thinking of you on Ontario municipal election day. Turns out we're being detoured because of elections in Ayodhya - the hotbed of Muslim/Hindu tension. and general India mafia corruption. The other morning the Times of India reported violence and death in pockets where polls were taking place. Just as well we're being diverted, I suppose. Can't tell you how many head-on collisions we've seemingly come close to encountering. Driving in India or being a passenger for that matter, sure ain't for the faint of heart. Housing construction has changed as we move westward. Brick and concrete and exposed rebar replaced with mud and thatching. Rather difficult to text as we bounce and dart and dodge along. More later. (Ps- thinking of you Ron and Pat and family)

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Yvone adds her own Brazilian interpretation.
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Classical Indian music: sitar and tabla performed by two professors, doctors of music at a university in Varanassi (?)

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Our surprise. A private sitar and drum concert in our home dining room. How awesome is that?!
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Our guest home in sarnath
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On arrival the children placed garlands of fresh marigolds around our neck and dabbed our foreheads with tumeric and dry rice.
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The two wee girls, both with dark liner beneath their eyes.
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...This jam session is a sensory extravagance. As we sit here the gong from a nearby temple is sounding. A gecko scampers and pauses on the wall behind our performers. The air is heavy, though not nearly as weighty as previous nights. Ceiling fans stir up wisps of coolness. Grampa Jain sits wrapped in a shawl, the fire from his 90 something body diminishing.

Saturday oct 23- sarnath. Emotional sums it up best. Some 75 school children in tidy uniforms and bare feet. Sitting under the shade of a banyan tree on a plastic tarp. Many visibly happy, others with a sadness so deeply embedded in their eyes it leaves one breathless. One little boy had a stump arm, a hand growing awkwardly, twisted, ill-formed.Two wee girls at front sat knee to knee, one holding the other in a frightened sisterly fashion. Traditional song and dance, introductions with dr jain serving as interpreter. Our turn to reciprocate we led the group in rowsing renditions of "head and shoulders..." And "I'm a little teacup..." Tears were impossible to fend off when the youngsters sang, in hindu with snippets of english and a definite indian rhythmn "we shall overcome." Phew. Afterwards, we wandered through a nearby village. Happened upon a potter who gladly demonstrated his skills. Further on I was invited into a gated garden to join a jubliant group of women celebrating a pending birth. They tugged at my pants, wanting me to sit and join them in a ceremonial paimting of feet. Had to sadly decline and return to my colleagues. Further along still, a 2nd Tibetan temple. Ostentatious in the extreme. Funded by western faithful.lunch back at lodgings, an afternoon to do as we wish. I'm sitting now in the courtyard of the modest Tibetan temple after having had the pleasure of watching ritual chanting. The bugs are getting hungry tho. Time to make my way back. Something special is planned for tonite. I suspect it may have something to do with the full moon. Sarnath, a place of teaching and learning. Yes, that it is indeed.

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Margo, Yvonne and Lynn at Deer Park, Sarnath
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Stupa with Jain temple in background
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