Videos!

I finally figured out how to add videos to this thing.  Turns out it's ridiculously easy, and for the first time ever I had to have a student show me how to do something online.  That officially makes me old; it's all downhill from here.

Anyway, here they are in chronological order and with a short description below.  Enjoy!

New Delhi:

The view from the bus I took across the southern section of the city.  This is what I was referring to when I said the city was in a constant, unidentifiable state of either being rebuilt or falling apart.  Notice the bus doesn't so much stop as slow down to a non-lethal speed to jump at.

Four girls and my giant packed crammed into a touk-touk to go into town from our hostel.  How that thing moved with all of us plus the driver and his friend is beyond me, but it was a bumpin' ride.

And this is how Delhi said goodbye.  I was walking down the road from my hostel to the train station and almost couldn't get through the cows, the people, the band...it was hilarious.

Amritsar:

A quick tour of the Golden Temple, the holiest site for all Sikhs.

All of these videos show different parts of the border closing ceremony between India and Pakistan. I sat on the Indian side (obviously), so you have to look closely to see the Pakistani guards dressed in black. It must be just about the only thing to do for entertainment in this area because there was a huge crowd and they were all natives! A lot of fun, even if I had no idea what the cheers said.

This is back in the Golden Temple.  Every evening they take the copy of the scriptures, a massive book about 3' by 2' that they believe is the several-hundred year-old original version, from its place in the main temple to a secure chamber in another building.  But not to worry, there are priests reading other copies 24 hours a day, so you can get your canonical fix, even at 3am.

Rishikesh:

Swimming in the Ganges, in the winter, close to its glacial source.  Really not disgustingly dirty here (that would come later in Varanasi), just cold!

Bhavesh, my Indian brother, totally wimps out on his chance to swim

Varanasi:

The view from our boat on the Ganges (absolutely disgustingly filthy in this location, bodies and all) of the evening Pooja.  The priests honored their 'Mother' river.

Udaipur:

Another poorly shot video from the handlebars of my motorbike and again not the crazy/dangerous part of the ride, but I don't need anything else distracting me on the roads when it's that busy.

Jodhpur:

A little music to get us in the mood for touring Jodhpur Fort.

Jaisalmer:

An odd scene on the streets of Jaisalmer.  I really don't know exactly what was going on here.

Agra:

Whatever this was rehersal for, it kicked off at about 11pm.  I almost got locked out of my hostel because I stayed out to watch it.

Delhi belly finally strikes...kind of

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I am so ready to start sleeping on a new bed.  This mattress really sucks and I’m awake several times throughout the night feeling cold and sore again.  I wake up for good at 6:45, having slept through all three of my alarms and the yoga class I wanted to attend.  It takes about ten minutes of being awake to realize that something besides my back doesn’t feel quite right.  Also, I need to use the bathroom.  Now.  Like this second.  I stayed too long in one city: Delhi Belly has found me.

From what I’ve heard, I’ve been “blessed” with a comparatively mild case.  It’s more like a mild dose of Delhi diarrhea with a few stomach cramps now and then.  At least I get a warning so I know when to go to the bathroom: there’s a loud gurgling noise somewhere in my intestines, I feel a little dizzy and maybe burp.  It’s an odd combination of factors and kind of makes me wonder exactly what’s going on in my body right now.  After an hour of alternating trips to the bathroom and fits of sleep I start to feel a little nauseous.  Okay, now this is NOT an encouraging development.  The urge isn’t overly strong and kind of comes and goes, but it’s there nonetheless.

Fortunately, I came to India prepared for precisely such a scenario.  I open up my first aid kit and pull out the following: plastic measuring spoon, Immodium, anti-diarrhea syrup, charcoal tablets and anti-nausea syrup.  I proceed to heavily self-medicate and try to fall asleep again.  I start thinking back to what I ate yesterday and try to figure out what could have caused it.  Breakfast at Devraj?  I probably would have felt sick sooner.  The orange from the street market?  Doubtful, I peeled it myself and it didn’t have any bad spots.  The cookies from the street vendor?  Maybe, but that doesn’t seem likely, either.  Drinks with Bhav?  I’ve had several there and been fine, and I don’t think drinks cause diarrhea.  Dinner at the ashram?  I think we have a winner.  They served boiled spinach in a very watery sauce and I’ve gotten really sick from greens before.

When I wake up an hour and a half later I feel like I’m functioning at about 75% and that’s enough for me to get out of bed and out of the ashram.  Bhav and I decide to take one last walk up to Laxman Jhula to get one more slice of cheese toast.  I start to feel like I’m dying about 15 minutes into a 45-minute walk, but that’s only on the uphills.  Oh, wait, we’re in the Himalayas and there’s a fair number of uphills to deal with.  After frequent breaks because I can’t catch my breath—wasn’t the problem with my stomach?  Why can’t I breathe?—we finally make it to Devraj.  The cheese toast is as good as I remember and I take a risk on some lemon-mint juice that is so fresh the crushed mint turns it green. 

The walk back is about as enjoyable/easy, but now I have extra motivation to make it: beach time!  I’ve brought my towel and I’m wearing my swimsuit and I intend to actually swim, not just wade, in the Ganges.  We seek out a suitable spot away from as many creepy old men as we can and I quickly throw off my clothes and head for the water.  IT’S FRICKIN’ FREEZING.  I can’t breathe again, but now it’s for a totally different reason than before.  I’ve completely forgotten I’m sick as every inch of my skin shrivels and pricks up into goosebumps.  I force myself to swim out about 10 feet then hightail back onto shore.  I manage to get Bhav to go in up to his knees, but he wimps out after that.

Unfortunately, the flies begin to swarm our legs after only about 20 minutes of lying on the sand, so we head back towards the Ashram where he’ll go to his music lesson and I’ll check on my tickets.  As I think about it, I have no idea what to do if I don’t get out of here tonight.  The power in Rishikesh has been going in and out for a couple days now (my first experience with power outages), adding unnecessary drama to the whole situation, and while I wait for the internet cafes to be up and running again I take a nap.  When I can finally check my tickets for the train tonight I’m relieved to see that one of them has been confirmed.  I’m finally moving on!  More importantly, I’m finally ready to move on!

I really don’t know what I’m going to do without Bhavesh to talk to and get me good deals on things.  It’s so great that I met someone I got along with so well and had so much in common with right when I needed a pick-me-up.  He’s the main reason my morale has finally risen to travel-ready levels again.  Staying in Rishikesh longer was absolutely the right thing to do, but I also think moving on again is the best move to make now.

So I get on my third train looking forward to (okay, maybe slightly dreading) the craziness that is Varanasi and trying not to get nervous about not having a hotel reservation already.  Quick calls to mom and Oke drain the talk-time on my phone after just ten minutes, but it’s enough for me to be able to fall asleep easily, knowing that I’ve at least checked in with people I care about.

Who spent only $25 and got a ton of new clothes today? This girl

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Since this is my last day, I’ve talked Bhav into checking out the restaurant my guidebook most highly recommended, Devraj Coffee Corner. We’re going for a proper breakfast and to enjoy the view out over the river as we eat (we really can’t get enough of the Ganges). We’re very nearly knocked over when we leave the dorms, though, because the mother of all winds has is blowing angrily and chillingly through the valley. I’m fighting great bouts of panic as we walk across the footbridges that are now bouncing slightly. If you’ve seen the video of the oscillating bridge that collapsed in Minnesota, you’ll know what I am thinking about.

Devraj looks like everything Lonely Planet promised. Fresh-baked goodies in the case (Nutella croissant for me and jam croissant for Bhav), piping hot chai, homemade brown bread served in thick slices with yak cheese (DELICIOUS) and toasted under the broiler, porridge with honey…there is absolutely no way I’m going to lose weight in India if I spend much longer in Rishikesh. We’re both in a much better mood this morning, but even if we weren’t there is no way to stay unhappy with all of this delicious food in front of us.

After we’ve feasted the day is still quite young so I order a cup of coffee (Real! Not instant!) and Bhavesh and I talk about what we’ve learned here in India. So I present to you now, in no particular order and with the last 5 added solely by myself, the ten lessons India has taught us:

1. Rupees go a long friggin’ way. Our breakfast today was a little over $4 total.
2. Not everyone dressed as a guru IS a guru (see post from 4 days ago)
3. There’s nothing wrong with chillaxing and gathering your thoughts in the Himalayas for a while sometimes.
4. A blog is an awesome way to release thought-traffic.
5. Bhavesh is a poser and totally annoying when he makes fun of my accent. 
6. You don’t really need that much to be happy and live a good life.
7. Always make friends with the locals, or at least a good look-alike.
8. There’s a fine line between negotiations and getting taken advantage of.
9. A lifelong friendship can start with the most innocuous of sentences.
10. You can be subconsciously spiritual without practicing a religion.
11. This country is colder and less mosquito-y than expected this time of year.
12. Trust is a very valuable commodity.
13. Little white lies may be expedient, but they don’t feel good to say.
14. You don’t have to cross everything off of your list to be able to say you’ve “seen” a place.
15. It can be tough to be alone, but it develops strength, friendliness and appreciation.

After so much introspection, I think it’s time to be a little materialistic and shop. Bhavesh has been looking for a knit hat with a little tassle on top and strings that hang down past your ears (all the rage here) and I need to pick up some Indian-style clothing so I get treated more like a local on the rest of my travels, Our first stop is at a nearby ashram’s textile store, where I finally find an attractive blouse and some scarves for Rs660 (about $15). I’m not getting pants because they aren’t ready made and I don’t have time for the tailor to make them for me. It’s nice to find a store with fixed prices, though, rather than worry about having to haggle to get a good deal. While Rs660 is a little high, it’s still a good deal and I’m happy to pay a little more to support this kind of practice.

On our way back to Rishikesh proper, Bhav gets a shirt for his mom and I pick up a couple more for myself. I even manage to beat the deal he got because I held out basically all the cash I had and asked the vendor if he’d take it. Before you know it, I’m walking away having paid Rs355 for two instead of his 300 for one. Love it. Unfortunately, it means I won’t have quite enough to get a phone card and talk time in town, but I’ll get my phone sorted so that all I have to do tomorrow is buy talk time and start calling the US!!

Rather than return to the ashram for lunch, we decide to walk along what appears to be a local farmers’ market lining an alley near the phone kiosk. The vendors are packed in, side-by-side for a good quarter mile. The produce is stacked in gigantic piles of vibrant reds, oranges, purples, greens and whites. Giant bags of spices, beans, lentils and chilis practically overflow onto the road and I fight the urge to grab a handful and let them spill out between my fingers. This is a REAL farmers’ market and the food has obviously been pulled from the ground in just the last few days. We each buy an orange and as we walk along dropping the peel where we please and spitting seeds into the gutter; I’m almost starting to fit in here.

For some reason, though, as we head back to the ashram I start to get this sick feeling in my stomach that my train tickets aren't going to make it off the waitlist.  The feeling only gets worse when I get to internet cafe and there's a power outage that prevents me from getting onto the IRCTC's website.  My subconscious must know that something has gone wrong, because sure enough when I get online I find out that neither of the two tickets I booked for the early train has been confirmed.  I've also bought tickets for the later train, though, so there's still a chance I could be leaving tonight. 

A couple hours later I realize that I’m hoping I DON”T make it onto the train today. I’m sure I’d be able to get onto one tomorrow, and I could be happy enough with just one full day in Khajuraho instead of two. Lo and behold, when I log-on again I find that the chart has been prepared and I didn’t make it off of the waitlist again. I’ll be automatically refunded for both of today’s tickets so I go ahead and book two more (one 2nd class and one 3rd) for tomorrow’s train. I feel comfortable sitting at waitlist 2 and 4, but to get rid of any nagging concerns I find the street vendor selling hot sugar cookies baked then and there on his cart under a small fire. Mmmm….toasty.

I catch Bhav at the evening aarti (river ceremony where candles are lit and Mother Ganga is thanked for her gifts) and we randomly stop by the office where he finds out not only did his orientation meeting get moved ahead a half-hour and is just finishing, but the course is going to cost a lot more than they said. Now he understands the frustration I’ve been feeling about being told different things by different people and the outcome being very different from what anyone said. He’s fuming and says he’s seriously considering joining me for the next part of my own trip. He’d be very welcome company, but he’s loath to give up his harmonium lessons because he’s found an excellent instructor at the ashram. The course is also a big part of the reason he came to India and he’d feel like he was giving up and missing out on a great chance to learn about the yogic lifestyle.

After dinner we enjoy one last late-night (here 8:30 means late) ginger lemon honey drink as we look out over the Ganges under the moonlight and a few unexpected fireworks. Around 9:30 he stops by my room to tell me he had a conversation with the ashram office manager about his course and that they’re willing to let him pay the lesser amount as long as he helps out a bit in the ashram (his first assignment: data entry, perfect for an accountant-in-training). He’s decided to stay, which I think will turn out to be the right choice for him in the end.

By this point Kim has wandered into my room to recommend a bookstore down the lane where I can pick up a few books by her favorite swami so I can use them to kill time before the train. So here’s my tentative plan for the morning: yoga, internet café to blog and check train and hotel reservations, breakfast, get books at bookstore and read by beach, lunch with Bhavesh at Devraj, finally dunk in river, check-out of ashram, get online if needed, yoga, auto-rickshaw to Raiwala, train. Let’s see what it turns into.

I've finally ghat this down

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If how I slept last night is any indication of what today will be like, I’m not sure I want to get out of bed.  Sore, cold and tired, I think I woke up 3 or 4 times last night.  Also, my stomach keeps rumbling because I’m not used to eating vegan meals all day every day and my body is begging me for more protein.  I think tomorrow Bhavesh and I will go out for a nice meal that includes some kind of meat or cheese or something like that.  I think my body can handle it by now.  In fact, now that I’m nearing the half-way point of my trip, I think I’m going to be braver and try more and more local restaurants and *gasp!* street food!!

After a tasty—but unusual—breakfast of some kind of lentil and tomato curry with toast (which Bhavesh now has me dunking in my chai tea—sooo good!), we decide to battle our mutual crappy moods by lying out on the beach.  Neither of us is feeling particularly peppy today, but the sun is out and it’s heating up fast so we grab a spare blanket from my room and pretend we’re in the Caribbean.  Despite the warm sunshine, glittering sand and clear, green waters of the Ganges, though, I remain feeling quite dour and, unfortunately for Bhav, uninterested in small talk.  The Ganges is a beautiful river, though, and I’ve got to give it credit for being especially inviting today.

In an attempt to fill the time and feel like we’ve been productive, Bhav and I jump in a shared rickshaw and head down to the older part of Rishikesh to see Triveni Ghat and Bharat Mandir temple.  On the way we stop to talk to the bus drivers at the station and a handful of local rickshaw drivers in order to find out how I can get to Raiwala train station in a few days.  In a completely predictable turn of events, we get a different answer from each and every one of them.  The bus drivers say that the bus isn’t worth it; nothing goes directly there so get a rickshaw for the 10-minute ride for about 10 rupees.  A couple locals say it’s half an hour away, but that a shared rickshaw will only charge me 10-20 rupees to get there.  The rickshaw drivers say that it’s 15 minutes and will run between 100-150 rupees.  So I can plan on it being anywhere between 10-30 minutes in a single or shared rickshaw for somewhere between 10 and 150 rupees.  This couldn’t more representative of India as a nation. 

So now for sightseeing.  A ghat is where people bring their laundry, bathe, play and, in larger cities like Varanasi, cremate/dump their dead.  This being the Ganges, the holiest river in the world to the Hindus, there are several ghats in the city.  Triveni is Rishikesh’s oldest, but thanks to development and expansion it now lies in the poorer part of the city.  We’re not talking poverty on a scale comparable to Delhi, but it’s certainly not a part of town a ton of tourists come to often so we’re ogled, touted, harassed and stared at to within an inch of our sanity.  Yes, even Bhav draws a lot of attention, but I’m not sure if it’s due to his western clothing or that he’s an Indian walking around with a white woman.  Who knows. 

Despite him calling me his tour guide, Bhavesh is definitely helping me get around town a lot more easily.  He grew up speaking Gujarati and so can understand Hindi fairly well (and his skills at speaking it are improving every day, too).  I’ve relied on him a lot these last few days to help me get good prices on things, find where we’re going and deal with the locals trying to sell us things.  We both find it amusing—well, as amusing as one can find this—that when we walk around every man in this city will look me up and down like I’m for sale, but they will only speak to Bhav.  To them I’m Bhav’s girl so it’s rude to speak to me in front of him, but since I’m white they can check me out all they want.  Hilarious, isn’t it?

After yet another lunch of rice, lentils, super spicy veggies and chipati (which resembles previous breakfasts and dinners to a monotonous extent), we find out that not only does the yoga course not start until two days after we’d originally been told, but that we’ll only be doing one hour of actual yoga a day.  While I shouldn’t be surprised, I’m still disappointed and, frankly, pissed off.  Since I had only planned to attend the first 3-4 days, this now means I’m only going to be able to attend one or two.  Additionally, I could have held onto my tickets to Lucknow and Varanasi and gotten to see them in plenty of time to return for the start of the course.  This is why I’m disappointed.

Now, why am I angry?  I’m starting to question the reliability of my ashram and exactly how not-for-profit their practices really are.  They’ve canceled all of the yoga classes I was supposed to attend since I’ve arrived and today I met a woman who requested a room here but was turned away, despite the fact that the other bed in my room remains unoccupied.  I was quoted one price in an email before I left Singapore and now I’m being asked to give more (all “suggested donations”).  My laundry cost double what they said it would and they finally my toilet fixed after 2 days of me bothering them about it.  My room has no heat, the windows don’t shut and no one seems to know exactly what’s going on around here.  There is no way this is worth Rs500 a night.

To make matters worse, there are pictures of the ashram’s guru all over the place and he looks exactly like that priest who went after me in the temple a few days ago.  It’s not a pleasant association to be making several times a day while I’m here practicing inner harmony.  It’s kind of the final straw, and I think I’m just going to throw in the towel and see if I can find a train ticket that leaves tomorrow night.  However, I will be disappointed not to learn more about meditation and proper yoga technique.  I’ve enjoyed the women’s class the last couple days and already feel much more loose and calm and my sore back and hamstrings are signs that my muscles are strengthening, too.

Speaking of developing muscle, Bhav and I took a killer walk today, straight up behind the ashram to another temple up in the hills.   While it wasn't that far away, the climb is what got to us.  And then once you actually reach it you have to climb floor after floor after floor to get to the top.  Honestly, these larger temples and the green forest they're set in remind me more of the Alps than India.  Maybe it's all the German bakeries they've got in this town, but sometimes I feel like I've been pulled into an Austria in a parallel dimension.  The view from the top floor is gorgeous and lays the city out at your feet.  On the walk back down we end up falling into a line of monkeys walking down the sidewalk, too, stop to watch the boys training at the ashram play cricket, and pass some run-of-the-mill crazies.

Well, at least today went out on a high.  Had a nice warm shower, did the rest of my laundry, made definitive plans for the next few weeks, had a delicious dinner (, a fried, puffy bread; , rice pudding with almonds; the usual beans and veggies over rice) and fell asleep while looking at photos from earlier in my trip on my laptop. 

Still in Rishikesh and very happy about that

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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.

After walking for an hour plus, a local tells us it’s still 3 kilometers on.  Bhav and I exchange looks signifying “screw it”, turn around and discuss photography until we get back to Laxman Jhula.  At this point we both decide we can’t possibly be expected to walk any further without a snack.  On our way out of town we passed a funky-looking restaurant called Little Buddha that was apparently modeled after a tree fort but nonetheless turns out to serve yummy (and warm) pretzels and cinnamon rolls.  Reading the paper, we also catch up on the latest news from America (Tiger Woods cheated on his wife) and India (9 students drown when their school bus crashes, warring families kill 11 people, children have cancer and deformities from the Bhopal gas leak, universities are horribly under-funded, etc). 

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.

Well, it's better than yesterday

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When I wake up I feel like a new person.  I slept a good 10 hours and feel refreshed and relaxed.  Last night I did a one-week beauty regimen, so hopefully I’m looking a little better, too.  Took a hot shower and shaved (well, up to my knees), tweezed my eyebrows, filed my nails, put on some teeth whitening strips and wiped down my pack.  After doing laundry today I will have washed the last week out of my wardrobe and hopefully cleansed my mood a bit, too.  I have decided that I am not going to let my emotions get the best of me again; I am done crying because while this is hard, I am going to appreciate it in the end and I will never have to go through this again.  Case closed.

After accidentally sleeping through the morning yoga class (which turned out to be canceled, anyway), I meet a nice British guy at breakfast, Bhavesh, and we decide to walk the path to the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi’s ashram (where the Beatles met him and wrote the White Album).  He’s here for the yoga course starting next week, and I think again about how it might be nice to stay for that.  Rishikesh really is fairly peaceful when you aren’t having an emotional meltdown, and between him and Holly and the others I’m sure I could meet here, it might be nice to stay a while where I have friends.  And I confess I would be very interested to really dig in and study hatha yoga and meditation.  I’m going to have to give this more thought.

The Maharishi’s ashram is pretty well in ruins; it was taken over by the government 40 years ago when there was a land dispute between them and the yogi and they haven’t maintained it.  The guard wants Rs50 from each of us to go in and see it, but that’s not going to happen.  Bhavesh thinks he could have gotten us in for much less if he had walked up speaking Hindi (he’s of Indian heritage), but we remember not to let that happen again as we deal with vendors and touts. 

So we turn the other way and follow the same path around Rishikesh I trekked yesterday.  We talk about relationships (his crazy ex-girlfriend is Lauren, oops) and traveling India, the same topics I’ve talked about with everyone else I’ve met that never seem to get old.  As we loop around Rishikesh, we find we have a lot in common: first time traveling India extensively, first time traveling alone, same age and conundrum about more school vs work and interested in learning more about ourselves through the challenge of our travels.  He’s nice company and thinks I should stay for the course he’s taking.

Well, here’s my conundrum: the yoga course is quite long, 10 days, so I would have to miss at least 3 cities on my itinerary altogether in order to take it.  I think that after even a couple more days in Rishikesh I would be feeling recharged and ready to tackle the second portion of my trip (and I have managed to meet people in every city so far, so I have no reason to believe this trend wouldn’t continue).  I don’t think I would return to India just to go to Jodhpur, so skipping some places would probably mean I don’t ever see them, if we’re looking at this pessimistically.

On the other hand, there are some great reasons to stay.  Obviously, knowing other people here has been a big boost to my morale and overall mood.  I would really like to learn more about yoga and meditation in an authentic setting, and my day would be pretty well devoted to studying and practicing, which sounds heavenly.  I could certainly save a lot of money by staying here rather than moving from place to place.  And Rishikesh truly can be a very relaxing city, despite my turbulent first day here, and I can picture myself walking up the river with a book and spending a lazy hour or two reading on a rock with my feet in the water.

I devote most of the afternoon to flipping through my guidebook and looking at my itinerary.  I can hear Holly in the back of my head saying that I need to just stick to my plan and go for it, but I can also hear Oke saying that I should only do that if I’m totally sure I can handle more days like yesterday.  They’ve both got a good point, and like a good Indian Buddhist I think I’m going to follow the middle road: skip Orchha and Lucknow and give myself 4 extra days in Rishikesh.  This will be enough for the first 3 days of the course, and while I feel a bit like I’m cheating, I’m just not willing to miss my chance to see the blue and pink cities of Jodhpur and Jaipur (no matter how insane they’re rumored to be).  I hope this is a wise decision!!

NOT MY BEST DAY IN INDIA. Wishing my plane ticket were transferable...

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Let me be clear: today pretty well sucked, but looking back I’m not even totally sure why.  The tentative conclusion I’ve come to is basically that the quality of my days depends on whether I’ve met another foreigner; even if we just have a short conversation it makes a big difference. 

Other contributing factors: leaving Amritsar; having been away from friends and family for the longest stretch of time ever; knowing I’m kind of stuck here; getting assaulted today; being tired of dealing with beggars/children/stares/vendors; not being able to trust anyone

All right, let’s start from the beginning.  I had a pretty nice night on the train, actually, and I slept through most of it snuggled in my blanket.  When I finally got up about 9 hours later, it was green outside my window instead of brown!  There were forests and even fields of bright green crops that were taller than me.  The girl sharing my cabin was really nice and answered some of my questions about the area, but trouble began as soon as we hit the station. 

Have I mentioned that they don’t tell you when you’re at the station you want?  Well, I missed mine by about 3 or 4 stops.  The trick is to know about what time you’re due to arrive at your station and start looking out the window for station names a half or so before that.  Well, that didn’t work for me; I was told to get off because it was the last station, but when I tried to leave the station the Chief Ticket Inspector said my stop was about 40km back and won’t you please step into my office, madam?  Oh dear god.

I try to explain that I had no idea I had missed it and that I had asked the conductor to tell me when we were in Raiwala (I’m now in Dehra Dun) and that he said the other person in my cabin was getting off in the same station yada yada.  He says that it will be Rs500 for him to let me go and now I’m struggling so hard to keep from crying that I can’t even say anything, just nod or shake my head and open my wallet.  Let me be clear: I’m not trying to pull the girly maneuver of crying my way out of a situation, I’m genuinely worked up here.  Just because he happens to be a nice guy and agree to reduce the fee to Rs200 is his decision, I’m just grateful for it.  So crisis averted, but not the best start to the day.

The good news is that Dehra Dun is well connected to neighboring cities via bus, so I’m able to get a ride to Rishikesh for Rs30.  We bump our way through the countryside and I try to keep the ever-present clouds of dust off of my granola bar and peanut butter (one of my very few sources of protein on this trip).  My auto-rickshaw drops me near the ferry that will take me across the river to the ashram I’m staying in and I get my first view of the Ganges.

IT IS BEAUTIFUL.  BREATH-TAKING.  INVITING.  CALMING.  A slightly milky sapphire color, it moves surprisingly quickly around and over the black boulders that poke their way out of the silky-smooth grey sand.  Buildings and temples rise up dramatically along the banks as the mountains rise up sharply from the banks.  No rolling hills in this valley, the river is bang-up-close to the mountains.  I have been looking forward to coming to Rishikesh for the quiet and relaxation and chance to see the Himalayas all week, and now I’m here!  Hallelujah!

I walk along the riverside path to Parmarth Niketan ashram, where I’ll be staying for a couple of nights.  Unfortunately, no photography allowed or I would happily snap dozens of photos of the colorful, landscaped courtyards and gardens (**ha! I snuck a few!  Coming soon!).  Statues of deities are sprinkled around the compound and dozens of people of all ethnicities walk around wearing shawls and prayer beads, carrying a yoga mat tucked under one arm.  As I’m ushered to my room I notice a library and realize I’ve made a very good choice of where to stay.

With plenty of time left in the day I decide to take a quick walk around Rishikesh.  I cross the pedestrian bridge nearest PN, Ram Jhula.  It’s a gorgeous suspension bridge that looks brand new and gives incredible views of the Ganges and town.  On the other side are lots of the same types of shops: clothes, music, jewelry, German bakeries (which I can’t totally figure out, but they’re there nonetheless) and adventure companies.  In honor of Fred Liimatta I make my first impulse purchase: a sugar donut that doesn’t even remotely compare to Dawn Donut’s goodies but is comfort food, in any case.

So far it sounds like Rishikesh is pretty good, right?  Maybe what I’ve needed after Delhi and a good follow-up to Amritsar?  I’d say after the donut is when it went downhill.  There are many more beggars here than any other place I’ve been, and, incidentally, a lot more cows, which makes it harder to dodge the two S’s on the sidewalks: spit and shit.  Additionally, I’ve been traveling alone for a long enough period of time to really start missing having someone around to chat with and appreciate the sights with.  I’d welcome a friendly face, even if just for a day. 

One thing Rishikesh does have going for it is that it has the largest concentration of foreigners I’ve seen in India.  This is very much hippy heaven and I feel super-comfy walking around in capri running pants, a blousy tank top and pashmina shawl.  I also broke out my sandals for the first time this trip (mom: they’re my Nike sandals from our hiking trip in 1996.  Still got ‘em!), so at least I’m physically, if not mentally, comfortable. 

Things REALLY get bad, though, when I round a corner and see a small Hindu temple open to the sidewalk.  The priest sees me looking in from the road and gestures for me to come inside.  He guides me from altar to altar, telling me the names of the deities, then asks me to sit down for a minute so he can bless me (yes, I’m already expecting to give a small donation).  He puts a small orange dot on my forehead and neck then takes a long baton made of feathers, taps it on a statue then my head five times each.  He asks for a donation and I give him Rs20, which he doesn’t seem to think is enough (500?!  Yeah, right), but he really gets upset when I stand to leave.  He begs me to wait one more minute and take a picture.  I snap a couple then show them to him and he gets a bit, well, excited.  He shakes my hand then gives me a big hug and then kisses me on the cheek. 

Yes, I am starting to feel uncomfortable.  I say thank you and that I must return to my hotel.  Okay, now he’s getting desperate.  He says, “No, no, please see altars” and grabs my wrist.  I’m saying no no no, he says stay stay stay and then grabs me in a bear hug and starts trying to kiss my face.  His breath smells like chewing tobacco and his scraggly beard scraping my face is making me cringe.  Yes, I am mentally shitting a brick at this point.  He’s a thin guy, but he’s got that wiry musculature that surprises you and I start yelling and pushing him away as hard as I can.  As soon I see an opening I run out the door, grab my shoes, run up the road and burst into tears. 

THIS IS NOT WHY I CAME TO INDIA.  I was expecting it to be difficult, but not a flat-out in-your-face challenge to my view of humans as inherently good.  I also mildly expected the desire to turn to a higher power for support and guidance, but so far I’ve felt about as spiritual here as an atheist at an evolution conference.  Even surrounded by all of this religious iconography and teaching, I don’t feel an urge to pray or meditate.  I can’t block out all of the disturbing images I’ve seen since my arrival and the commoditization of spirituality churns my stomach.  I’m sleeping 9-10 hours a night, but I’m still so tired and overwhelmed. In the end, it’s not god I want to hear from, but my friends and family.

As I cross over the second pedestrian bridge, Lakshman Jhula, and take the beachside path back to the ashram, I’m amazed that so much beauty can co-exist with so much ugliness.  The river and the sun setting over it are truly beautiful and the path is welcoming and quiet.  I sit on a boulder and put my feet in the cold water and just sit for a while.  I let myself have a good cry for the scare I had, for the dirty children living on the sidewalk, for the waste marring the beautiful landscape, for my loneliness…then drag myself back to the ashram. 

I make a couple of embarrassingly emotional phone calls to the US (man, I can already hear the “I told you so’s”) and go to dinner.  This is when I meet Holly, whose conversation and encouragement put a patch on the flat tire that is my morale.  She’s an American working for the ambassador in Bangkok and who came to Rishikesh to study yoga for a few weeks.  She and I will be leaving Asia around the same time next year and both dream of living in London after that.  She’s traveled India alone several times and thinks that I need to stick to my original itinerary and that I’ll be glad in the long run that I did.  “You’ll hate Varanasi, but when you get home you’ll be so glad that you went.”  As we chat about work, India and relationships over glasses of hot ginger lemon honey drinks, it feels like I’ve traveled 2000 miles to a café in the US.  It’s a very welcome feeling, and the conversation warms my soul as much as the drink warms my hands. 

A third of me wants to continue on my itinerary just to be able to say that I did it and so that I can really learn about resiliency, self-dependence, and, for lack of a better word, hutzpah.  Another third of me knows that I have my bathing suit and could easily spend a week in a hut on a Goan beach and still pick up the last part of my itinerary.  The final third thinks maybe I could get something good out of attending the beginner’s yoga course that starts here on Monday and runs for ten days.  I’m going to have to give this some serious thought because I just don’t know what I want anymore, other than to go home, but I don’t even know if that means Singapore or the US at this point.  I’ll figure it out tomorrow; now I’m going to bed.