You know I’ve never been much of a fan of porridge, but for some reason I can’t stop eating it this morning. It’s not even sweetened, but I’m wolfing it down like it’s nectar from the gods. The woman serving the food gave me a funny look after my third bowl, though, so maybe it’s time to stop. But hey, I have a big day today and I’m trying to get my calories. Bhav and I are going for a really long walk to find a waterfall described in my guidebook, and since it’s up in the hills it’s going to be an arduous uphill trek (both ways, maybe?).
As we pass through the city I notice that Rishikesh has a couple of things in common with the other cities I’ve visited. First, the merchants tend to clean their stalls by whacking their goods with a handkerchief tied to the end of a stick. More like subduing the dust rather than getting rid of it, they try to beat it into a thinner, less-noticeable layer on whatever they’re selling, be it fruit, CDs or clothing. Secondly, every building, and this is only a slight exaggeration, is either falling down or undergoing construction. On a given block I can count the number of completed, fully-functional, landscaped structures on one hand. This helps neither the noise, image or dust-levels of India and it just gets depressing to see block after block after block. I’m not sure whether India is on the verge of rising into a first-world country or collapsing into the third-world.
Once we head north of Laxman Jhula, the houses and stores disappear quickly. It only takes a few minutes to walk to the outskirts of town, where it would appear the wealthier families live. Another few hundred meters later we’ve left Rishikesh altogether and are walking through the woods with the Ganges far below on our left. We’ve finally found some quiet and the views of the river are spectacular. It’s a cool, hazy day today, so it’s a comfortable walk and we chat about parents, work, relationships (we’re in our mid-20s, so what’s more important than that?) and spirituality. Bhavesh is a chatty guy with a good sense of humor, and we seem to have a lot in common so he’s nice company.
In the afternoon, as Bhav attends his harmonium lesson, Kim and I head to a yoga class for women at another ashram and it’s nice to see that I remember a great deal from my classes in Chicago. But the instructor, an Asian woman living here as a sadhu (person on a spiritual journey), sure lets you know when you’re doing something wrong. I don’t think she has the words to correct us, so she basically pushes/pulls/twists/yanks us into position; I’ve learned to brace myself for some serious tweaking when I see her wool socks coming my direction. It’s a nice taste of what I’ll be learning during the yoga course, though; I’m sure that after ten days of this Bhav is going to be crazy flexible and in great shape, and I’m a little jealous.
To celebrate having forced ourselves to stay in this country for another day, I take Bhavesh for hot ginger lemon honey drinks where Holly and I went my first night in Rishikesh. Upstairs we discover an open-air seating area with an amazing view of the river. It’s freezing, but when you’ve got something tasty warming your hands and a good friend to talk to you just don’t seem to notice as much.
No comments:
Post a Comment