The Last Morning

Monday May 6^th 6:48am

I have just woken up on my last morning in India. I got back to Varanasi from Mumbai two nights ago, right in time for the entire Alliance Program, another study aboard program in Varanasi that my two roommates are a part, to come to our house for a dinner. I was a little nervous, but I fit right in with the group, and ended up joining them for a sunrise boat ride and going to their final Kutuk (Indian folk dance) performance yesterday.

Spending the last two days with the Alliance kids was illuminating. I had met most of them a few times throughout the semester, and they always seemed to be an appropriately dressed group of tourists. In general they are very into yoga, Osha taro cards, palm reading and other spiritually minded, somewhat stereotypically ‘Americans go to India’ things.  Additionally, because they have a few boys there was a lot of the traditional drama that comes with young people living in exclusion together. By that description it does not sound like something I would enjoy very much, yet I loved spending time with them.

More importantly then any of the above negatives was the fact that all 11 members of the program love each other. They love the city of Varanasi because they were able to experience it through friendships I can only equate to those made at summer camp. Together the eleven of them explored the city and the country, shopping, touring, watching sunrises, eating, and more in groups. Everyday of their program house was filled with laughter and a sense of togetherness that simply was not found in the Wisconsin program house, where each person could claim real friendship with only a few other people. In my case, only one.

Rahul Ji, Gadolia Shopkeeper

But due to all of the amazing experiences that the Alliance kids were able to have because of their close relationships, it seems as though they were not forced into the difficulties of India, and the small joys that come with them. Karen, my roommate, told me that she had never taken a rickshaw alone, something that I have been doing since the second week, but was an accomplishment I was proud of my first time. Things like exploring this ancient city with a distinct lack of city planning, getting yourself lost, and then found again, can only happen when you are forced out on your own. When, I was able to show mom and Ruth around with ease I still do not see in Alliance kids, I could not have been prouder of myself and the way I had adapted. The attempt to get what you need done in a city you barely understand is a frustrating, hair pulling, and daunting challenge, but when you succeed without a friend holding your hand the reward is that much sweeter.

Karen, me and Devin after my trip

The question is not whether the Alliance program or the Wisconsin program is better, but would you rather take on the world with your best friend holding your hand, or as an individual, knowing it is sink or swim. I can tell you one thing, if I was going to be in India for even one more month I would choose the friend, knowing the challenges would be enough for even two of us together. But for five months, I think Devin and Karen waiting at home, and Nitish and Sunder Ji around in case of emergencies, was the best way to experience the culture.

Durgakund

I cannot say I enjoyed every moment of my time in India. There were times that I was not sure if I was going to make it, and I did not have the comforts of home to make me feel better. Half the time I could not even call mom because she was asleep, and my lack of Internet was further limiting. I was pushed harder to be comfortable with my own company then I ever have before, and because of that I grew more confident in my ability to navigate the world. I understand how sentimental and corny I sound, but I never would have considered travelling alone though India five months ago, and I just got back from a 15 day individual trip with no one to prop me up.

 After that experience, one of the harder things I have ever done, I am fully confident that I can go wherever I want to go, whenever I want to go there, and be okay. I did not fall in love with travelling. I have no grand plans to take two years and go see the world, but what is stopping is not fear or lack of confidence or knowhow, it is simply that right now it does not sound appealing. If next year that changes and I have a burning desire to go explore Asia in its fullest I could do it, with a friend or alone, and everything would be fine.

Wisconsin Program House

I have learned to trust people to be good, my gut to be correct, and rickshaw drivers to rip you off. I understand the power of ethnic clothes and one or two sentences in the local language to integrate you into a society, as well as the importance of carrying a book and raincoat to isolate you when you need it. When it is not your culture, do not take sides and do not judge it, but find the logic and eat the local sweets. I can go on and on about all of the other growing I did, or things I learned about myself. I can tell you how stupid life choices don’t seem stupid at the time, except when they do, and I can tell you not to eat the meat at the airport. But I won't. You get the picture, and I am by no means a fully changed woman. Other than my lack of concern about hygiene I have the same values, same opinions and same thoughts as I did before I left.

Assi sweet counter

I will share one last realization from India. America is awesome. It has its problems that we should try to fix, but what the country stands for and the way it strives to run is amazing. I have never in my life been more patriotic or a prouder to be an American, and the world loves us as well. Barack Obama is a household name in India, even in houses where no one can read or write, and when you say you are an American local faces glow. The Europeans may roll their eyes, but others are as proud to know an American as I am to be one, and I don’t think there is a better place to be born.

I will be back in American in a little over 24 hours and I am so excited. I will miss Varanasi and many of the people I have met and come to view as friends, but I cannot promise I will be back. I have had experiences here you cannot have anywhere but in the most Indian place in all of India, and I am grateful that I was given that opportunity, but this is not my home and it never will be. Other girls in the program know they will be back within the next five years. I am not so confident, yet because of that, the bitter sweetness of leaving is all the more potent. This may be goodbye forever to a whole city and culture I have grown to appreciate, if not love, but it will always remain an important part of my college experience. There will be no tears as I leave, but sweat, a little dirt, and maybe some cow dung for good measure.

The Wisconsin Program:
Jessie, Sarah, Danielle, me, Alex, and Tania

Ellora and Ajanta

Wednesday May 15, 2013, 10:35 pm

I am sitting in the airport waiting to go to Rochester for senior week, and it occurred to me that I never finished blogging about my trip. So here it goes.

The day after I explored the local sights in Aurangabad I decided to take a bus to the Ellora caves, instead of taking a taxi or a rickshaw. The caves were about 30 km away, but it still took almost an hour and a half to get there because the public bus experience outside of the big cities in India is quite

Ellora Cave Ceilings

an adventure.

I first had to take a rickshaw four km to the bus station, and I had the first truly kind auto driver I had ever met. It was a shared rickshaw that usually cost either 10 or 20 rupees, but because I did not know the area I just offered the driver 20. He smiled at me and handed 10 back, informing me that 10 was the correct price. I have never had such an honest driver. It blew my mind, but it was just a taste of the generosity that was to come.

Getting on a bus in rural India takes more pushing and shoving then getting to the center of ETHS homecoming, and not even football players would be able to deal with the close contact. Everyone is trying to get to the door and on the bus, making it impossible for people to get off the bus. Kids and elderly do not get any special treatment, and when I stopped to let a crying child get to his mother I suddenly found myself at the end of the crowd because I had let down my guard. However, after you fight your way into the bus everything calms down and people are incredibly polite. Strangers squeeze three people into two-person seat, and the women next to me continuously offered me food. It was a lovely ride though the countryside and the driver was kind enough to tell me when to get off.

Back Paths of Ellora

When I entered the caves I was bombarded by people attempting to sell me books and give me tours, but I walked right past them. One caught up to me and started out by telling me that he did not want any money. At that I stopped to talk. He explained to me that he was a guide, but it was not tourist season, and he could see I was not a stupid traveler. Since he was not going to make any money that day anyway he wanted to show me the best path to see the caves based on the position of the sun. I agreed and we were off.

Instead of walking the two kilometers down the road to caves he said I should start at we climbed over the mountain, stopping at the caves we came to on the way. Sadek, the guide, was so used to the paths and the mountain that he was able to run in flip flops over the rocks. I had lost my Tims the night before, so I was in sandals, and I was not so successful. I had a few tumbles, but ended up with only one bad cut and a small rip in my pants. It was not a big deal, but quite comedic. With Sadek I was able to see and understand things about the caves I would not have otherwise, and it was so much fun. He loved taking pictures so I gave him my camera, and he took about a million.

Three story cave

At the end of the caves path he left me to work my way back, but in classic Indian style he asked me to come to his family shop when I was done with the caves. Because he had been so nice to me I decided I would go, so when I was done with the caves I met up with him and we went across the street. I started looking at shawls with the shawl man, Riaz, and we struck up an amazing conversation. An hour later I was still in the store, no longer looking at scarves, and Sadek and Riaz convinced me to change the train tickets I had to go back to Mumbi that night for the two days later and stick around Ellora. They wanted to show me their small village the way they knew it. Agreeing to stay was very out of character for me, but it felt right at the time, and the next thing I knew I was in a rickshaw with Wasim the rickshaw driver, who would become a great friend over the next two days.

We went back to Arangabad, picked up my stuff from the hotel, changed my train ticket, and went back to Ellora, where they put me in the family hotel. I have never been anyplace so gross in my life. The sheets were white I could easily see the red bed bugs all over the bed. The water did not work in the sink, and the toilet did not flush. There were a master on the lock on the door, but it took about five minutes to close. But there was a fan and I had no place else to go, so I sucked it up, laid down some of my own shawls over the sheets and went to bed.

Shiva Temple in Ellora

At 9:00 the next morning Sadek showed up at my door. The Ellora caves were closed for tourists on Tuesday so the whole village was more or less on a day off. We had breakfast at a friend’s restaurant and then we walked father into the village to one of the most beautiful Shiva Temples I have ever seen. It was  8 shrines separately constructed and placed in a perfect square about half way down a flight of stairs. You could hear the birds and the sun was shining. The temple took my breath away, and for that reason alone I am glad that I stayed. We saw a few other temples that morning, and then headed back for lunch with Wasim the rickshaw driver.

Village life is slow, and Tuesday acts as Ellora’s weekend, so I spent the afternoon reading and hanging out. At about five I met up with Riaz, and Wasim took us to the base of the mountain where there was a small but beautiful Jain temple about half way up. We climbed up the 200 winding steps and watched the sunset in silence, as well as watching a few other worshipers struggle their way up the mountain. One of these groups of worshipers were teachers from the local Jain school, and we started talking. They were a hilarious bunch, and thought I was even funnier, so we spent quite a while chatting about marriage, America, math, and family structures.

Ajanta Caves

While I was with Wasim I got a call that the train I was supposed to take back to Mumbi the next day was completely full, and I could not get back until an 11:30pm train. That meant I had another whole day in the area with nothing to do. Thank god I was with Wasim when I got this call, because the next thing I knew he was going to take me in his rickshaw the 120km, 3 hour, trip to the Ajanta Caves that I thought I was going to miss.

The Ajanta caves were nice, but it was the six hours I spent in Wasim’s rickshaw that was the highlight of my day that day. The sun was hot, but the wind was cool, and we were driving through the real countryside. The only structures were mud huts, and crops were green all over the place. There was little rain this year, so everyone was telling me about how beautiful it was normally, but I was impressed with what I saw. On the way back we were able to watch the sunset over the fields.

After a rooftop dinner back in Ellora with Riaz and Wasim over my hotel I jumped back in Wasim’s rickshaw and went to the train station to go back to Mumbai, a far less stressful event then coming to Ellora.

From right: Sadek, Wasim, me, Travel Agent

This was not how I expected to spent four full days, but I went with my gut, and I experienced a more genuine version of India then I could have seeing the big tourist sights in Mumbai. I made relationships and friends, and for once was able to truly understand the generosity both in time and money of Indians who are not trying to rip you off.

Aurangabad

Tuesday April 29 1:26pm

On the train to Aurangabad from Mumbai I somehow ended up in a class above where I usually travel, so there were only two levels of bunk beds, and no beggars whatsoever. The bed was actually comfortable and the only person in my compartment when we left was a nice Spanish man named Alfanso, who was also on his way to see the Ellora Caves. We were both tired, so we went to bed fairly quickly, but about a half hour later another family got on the train and the peaceful journey came to an end as the man who was in the bunk next to me fell asleep and began snoring like a horse being strangled.

View from the mountain roads

At four in the morning I woke Alfanzo up and we got off the train. Alfanzo was an older man, probably in his fourties, so he was responsible enough to have reaserched hotels before he came to India. I had been planning to just hang around the train station until it was light outside, but he invited me to come along with him to his hotel, where we were sure there would be an open room because it is not the tourist season. The hotel was a little outside my budget, but just by a few bucks, so I quickly agreed with the idea of a shower and a bed in mind. We got to the hotel and checked in around 5, and Alfanzo made plans to take a day trip to the farther of the two sets of caves that we had come to see. I would have joined him, but the tour started at 8:30, I had an ear and throat infection, and I had not slept a wink. Instead I went to my super nice room and slept until noon.

Sufi saint shrine

At noon I got up and decided that I would spend the day doing the small tourst sights that most people skip, and I would go to one set of caves the next day (see next post). I was low on cash so I set out to find an ATM, and though the machines were everywhere I had to go to four different ones before I got one that worked. By the time I finally got cash I was hungry, for I had skipped breakfast, and I found this large but dingy bar and restaurant. When I walked in everyone was shocked, for they clearly do not get many women, not to mention white ones. But the food was good, the atmosphere local, and the prices cheap. I ended up eating at this place three times, and each time they seemed not to believe that I was actually there. They were so knocked off their game that they increased the quality of their service by 10 fold. To the guys at the table next to me they did little more then bring the food and take it away, but they served me my food, checked in on me constantly, and kept refilling my water glass from my water bottle. It was quite cute.

Inside Bibi Qa Maquab

After lunch I was off to see the sights, the first of which was the Bibi Qa Maquab, or the “poor man’s Taj” for it looks just like the Taj, except it is smaller, dirtier, and less well kept. It was funny in a depressing kind of way. But it was worth seeing nonetheless. I then went to the closest set of caves that were not much to see, and a few other sights that were not worth anything. However, I did get into a small water fight with some Muslim women in one that was the best part of my day.

After the tourist sights I went to the local market, for it is there that you truly understand the way a city works. After Varanasi I was shocked by how chill and laid back the place was. People stared at me because I was the only white person around, not because I was a potential source of extra income. It was friendly, clean, quite, and calm. There were mostly Muslims in the market, indicating a large Muslim presence in the town and almost no animals. People stopped to chat and the entire market was only a few blocks big. This small town was a whole different world than the India I was used to, and I liked it a lot.

I came back to the hotel early and settled down, for even though I had not done much it was still over a hundred degrees and I was exhausted.

Shabbat in Mumbai

Sunday April 28 5:32

I had arrived in Mumbai at 9:30pm the night before and ordered a taxi from a legit company. While I was waiting for the taxi another man forcibly tried to get me to go into his car, but like a good little girl I said no. He seemed both surprised and pissed by how determined I was to get into the right taxi.

My taxi finally came, and I told him the address of a hotel I got out of The Lonely Planet. He could not find the place for an excruciatingly long time, and when he did it was down a sketchy ally and up some stairs with people sleeping in it. The hostel itself was fine, and the owner was friendly, but he only had triple rooms available and because it was almost 11:00pm. I had to dish out the dough and take it. The room cost me almost 20 dollars.

Cricket Park

When I woke up the next morning and went to the bathroom I noticed a high-pitched squeak. I was slightly confused, but I finished my business and got up to flush. And then shrieked a little. A mouse had climbed out of the sewer system, into my toilet bowl, and was trying to get out as I sat there. Pulling myself together I flushed (the mouse did not go down), turned around, and walked out to begin my day.

The reason I chose the hotel in the first place is because it is next to the Kenesset Eliyahoo Synagogue, a bright blue Sephardic Shul that is closed to tourists on Saturday for services. There was some really intense security there when I tried to go to the services, including what looked like a mini tank, and you would have thought I was applying for the CIA. Knowing what the security man wanted to hear, I lied, and told him that Chabad from Varanasi sent me, even though I read about the Shul on the Internet. “Chabad” was like a secret password, and I was finally allowed in.

Though the Shul was large, the service was almost empty. There were two other foreign girls, three local women, and a smattering of both in the men’s sections, but the place felt eerily vacant. Add to that the chipping paint and it was clear that this community had seen better days. The Rabbi was a young man straight out of Israel, and there were very few Indian men.

After the service we were all invited to a delicious lunch downstairs, and I had a lovely time talking to the few women, though they may have tried to set me up with their resident socially awkward forty something bachelor. Other then that, it was great.

As lunch finished I headed out, but was chased down by the 25 year old Rabbi who moved to Mumbai a month ago. When I told him I had no plans he asked me to walk with him, and showed me the Gateway of India, the Taj Hotel, and the hotel where he stays on Shabbas. Between my Hebrew and his English we were able to carry on a nice conversation, and we were stopped a few times by other Jews who were attracted to his frum look. It was really nice, though I did keep slipping into Hindi.

Mumbai University

After I said goodbye to the Rabbi I continued walking, and an Indian boy joined me. I usually don’t let them walk with me, but this one did not ask for any money or for me to come to his shop within the first few minutes, so I let him show me how to get to Mumbai University. We walked though a park and watched some young children at cricket practice, and then I basically told him to get lost because I was tired and wanted to sit down and read a book. At this point I had done a few hours of walking, and still had a few hours before my trains, so I found a café and other places to just hang out until it was time to go to the train station.

All these people say Mumbai is a scary place, and I am sure once I leave tourist-vill when I go back in a few days it will be, but the tourist spots in Mumbai have nothing on the tourist spots in Varanasi. If you can do Varanasi, you can do anywhere. Yesterday someone told me they heard Varanasi was the ‘Shithole of India’, and I think I may have to agree. Even the Mumbai locals were shocked when they heard that I had spent a few months in Banaras, misunderstanding my pervious naiveté for bravery.

PS. I lost my Kiddi Tims in the Mumbai train station, resulting in my almost missing my train, and a little bit of a crushed spirit. Add to that the ear and throat infection I got yesterday, and it was a bad end to a good day.

Toy Train and Jeeps: Darjeeling and Kursion

Friday April 26, 6:13pm

 Toy Trains and Jeeps: Darjeeling and Kursion 

Right now I am sitting in the Delhi airport waiting for my plane to Mumbai. I have just left the beautiful Himalayas where I spent a lovely morning listening to Billy Jonas as I drove though the mountains in the back of a Jeep.

The day after Bad Jack and the Magical Sunrise all four girls got up early to take the Toy Train Joy Ride. The Toy Train is a tiny little railroad that goes though the mountains, and is on the UN World Heritage Site List.  The British built it to use when they were in charge of India, and now it is a major site in Darjeeling. Its top point is the highest railway station in the world, and when it was built it required major innovations in mountain railway design. Normally you can take the train up and down the mountain, but because of landslides the lower tracks are out of order. Instead there is a joy ride that just goes around the top, offering great views and a stop at a cute little museum about the train.

After the Toy Train I said goodbye to the English girls as they went to Calcutta, and I went about half way down the mountain to a town called Kursion. I was wandering around looking for a cheap hotel in this town that is off the tourist beaten path when a white girl with an American accent stopped me. She asked me if I was looking for a cheap room and when I said yes she told me that almost everyplace was full but she had a double all to herself. She invited me to room with her and I quickly said yes.

After I settled in we went out to explore the town and ended up walking about an hour outside of the village. We stopped in a tiny shack of a restaurant for some momos and Chaii and then wandered into a tea plantation. It was beautiful. The tea was in full bloom and the paths were lined with Tibetan Prayer Flags, adding to the ambiance. Eventually we sat down in the middle of the fields looking out to the mountain and chatted about life, education, and especially camp, for hours. Keala was from California, and at 27 she had just gotten her teaching credentials. She was taking some time to travel before attempting to volunteer in Laos, teaching English for a few months. She spent her summers in a family run camp, and we could not have fit together more.

 

As the sun was setting we headed back to the hotel for a girls movie night of A Bugs Life, complete with the first popcorn I have had for months. After an early breakfast the next morning I wished her luck on her travels, hopped in the first jeep heading down, and went to the airport.

Bad Jack and the Lovely Darjeeling Joy Ride

Wednesday April 24. 12:41pm

Yesterday after breakfast Lauren, one of the English girls I met on the train, and I decided we were going to hire a car to take us around Darjeeling, for there is little public transportation, and the sights are fairly spread out. We went to talk to the hotel manager and after looking at me and asking if I was a student he named a price that was far lower than anyone else around. We were to be ready in half an hour.

Bad Jack!

A half an hour later we meet Bad Jack Alex, our driver for the day. As he pulls up to the hotel the receptionist jumps out, we hop in and away we go. When we get in the car we realize this is no normal taxi driver. In fact, it is not a taxi driver at all; it is the receptionist’s boyfriend, and his private car. This Nepali Indian man with green eyes, is a case study in contradictions. He wears a leather jacket and calls himself Bad Jack, but at the same time has a “Jesus Loves You” sign on his rearview mirror. He told us about all of the American women he used to date, and his girlfriend from California who he dumped because she asked him not to talk to other girls, then he quoted the bible multiple times. For Bad Jack everything was “lovely”, we were both his “darlings” and everyone was his friend.

Tea Pickers on the Mountain

Our first stop was a few miles outside of town at the Ropeway, a five kilometer cable car ride that take you down and back up the mountain, where you can see the women picking tea. Then it was to the Sikkim/ India border, and the local cricket stadium from colonial times. We stopped at the Tibetan Refugee Self Help Center, where they have a nice photo exhibit and a shop where they sell the handicrafts they make. All proceeds go back to the center so I bought a wool sweater. They refugees were in a group meeting, so the workshops were closed, but it was a beautiful place and the kids playing outside seemed happy. In order to get to the Refugee Center we had to take a winding and unpaved road far up the mountain, and as a Midwest girl I was sure I was going to die.

Next came a quick look at the rock people use to train for climbing Mount Everest and then a chaii break and a walk around the tea leave fields. We finished off our day at the Japanese Peace Pagoda, one of the beautiful white Buddhist temples that have been built all over the world to promote nonviolence, especially to protest nuclear weapons. In the temple we got to witness and participate with the chanting and drumming of three monks, and even though we could not quite get the Japanese syllables right it was very soothing.

Sunset from Tiger Hill

When we got back to the hotel we begged the hotel manager to book Bad Jack again for the next morning, to see the sunrise at the Tiger Hill observatory. There was a timing confusion, so at 3:50 am  there was a knock on our door and Bad Jack was waiting there telling us to get up and hurry! We threw on as many layers as we could and ran out the door. This time the hotel receptionists, and Jack’s girlfriend, Eva, joined us, and up the mountain we went.

From Tiger Hill we saw a beautiful sunrise and the most stunning views of the snow-capped Himalayas in the morning light. It was as though the clouds knew we were there, and they perfectly enshrined the peak of Mount Everest, making it stand out. We were so far away it did not look exceptionally tall, but it did look very pointy.

Ghoom Bhuddist Monastery

On our way down to the hotel we stopped at one of the Ghoom Buddhist Monasteries, a darling place with beautiful religious art, and a great view of the mountains. The monastery we went to was not the biggest one, but the oldest one, so it was off the tourist beaten trail, making it a lovely and quiet experience. There were a few people worshipping there, but the interesting thing is that when they circled the building clockwise as part of their worship they were all at a run.

After a quick look at the Darjeeling War Memorial we went back to the hotel. Lauren and I got breakfast in our room, leaving Eva and Jack to have a little date, then promptly when back to bed.

After a quick rest at the hotel after the first day’s tour, Lauren and I went to dinner, where we ended up chatting with a bunch of other travelers, including one I had met in Varanasi previously. This is what I learned about backpacking

What I learned about backpacking culture in one night (Forgive the generalizations):

• Everyone does the same route: Southeast Asia, Australia, Asia, than South America.
• Australia is where everyone goes in the middle to make more money to travel more because they have a very high minimum wage, so you can make bank with no skills.
• When you travel you have the same conversation over and over and over and over.



Inside the Ghoom Monastery



•  Where are you from?
• How old are you?
• Where have you been?
• Where are you going?
• How long have you been traveling?
• What do you do back home?
• That is it. There is nothing more
• Travelers band together, which stops them from meeting locals.
• There is a superiority thing about not doing the main tourist sights, which I don’t understand, because why would you go to a place where you are going to spend only a few days and not see the sights that make it famous. We were told not to go to the sunrise because it was stupid. It was a sunrise. How can that be stupid?
• Travelers are convinced everyone must go travelling, because it changes a person, but they would never consider staying in one place for any amount of time.
• There seems to be a tendency to go to a million places, and never really understand one. I barley understand Varanasi in four months of interacting with the community, but people are convinced when they spend four nights in a place they get it, when all they did was talk to westerners.
• Most travelers do not know that everyone calls Varanasi “Banaras”, meaning they all think that I just get the name wrong and am an idiot. Indians on the other hand, know exactly what I am talking about.
• When we left the restaurant we all headed over to a bar where they were showing a “film”. I assumed it would be a Hindi movie, but instead it was Austin Powers, and nobody saw the sadness of going out to an old western movie in a place with the largest movie industry in the world, when they had done the same thing the night before. The idea of watching a Hindi movie never came up.

Conclusion: Travel if you would like. That is fine. But travelling less places for longer periods of time will allow you to actually understand where you are and really learn about the culture. Wear the clothes, speak a few words of the language, and enjoy the place you are in rather than looking forward to the next place.

Basically, be a student, work, or volunteer in a city. Don’t just be there.

Darjeeling of the Hills.

Tuesday April 23, 8:41am

It has been an intense few weeks. I know that I have not updated in a while, but I have not had one minute to write for fun.

In the past few weeks I have:

•  Planned a trip to Nepal
•    Had the trip to Nepal cancelled because AirIndia cancelled the plane
•   Planned an alternative trip to Darjeeling and Mumbai with a jaunt to Ellora and Ajanta
•   Wrote a 60 page field work report about the economy of religious ritual
• Took finals
• Wore Saris
• Went to the kings of Varanasi’s fort, a somewhat disgusting place with a cool little museum of old cars and weapons across the Gunga.
•   Rode an elephant 
• Rode one of Varanasi’s first two electric rickshaws
• Learned Liquid Kolam 
• Rode a motorcycle with one of Varanasi biggest radio DJ (Sundar Ji’s Brother)
• Learned to do liquid Kolam
• MCed the Wisconsin final performance in a way so American it was shocking to the Indian audience, but they LOVED it. I think Americans may have been bored, but the Indians ate it up!
•  Learned to pronounce many Indian names correctly.
• BOOKED TICKETS TO SENIOR WEEK!
•  Annoyed IBTL to make sure they had their stuff together.
•   Packed my things,



Liquid Kolam



• Said Goodbye

Right now I am sitting in my hotel room in Darjeeling, my first stop on my adventure through India. After going to the River Ashram one last time yesterday, and saying goodbye to my tutorial teachers family, I went home to pick up my stuff. Of course, the horrible dogs had peed all over both of my bags, but there was nothing I could do. I had a train to catch so I picked them up and headed downstairs.

I said a quick good bye to Karen and Devin and was off.

Heading out to catch the train

Once at the train station I became incredibly paranoid about finding the right platform. I did not want a repeat of Agra (See last post). I must have asked at least 10 people who work there, and they all told me to go to platform 1 or 2, but that my train was delayed. I went into the ladies waiting room, and took out a book to read.

There were a few men with their wives and families in the waiting room, but there was enough room, and everyone was quiet, so no one cared. Then these two crabby old women started freaking out. And I mean freaking out. They were yelling and stomping and probably cursing, though it was in Hindi, in order to get the men to leave the room. Some of the men stared arguing back, and I swear it looked like someone was going to throw a punch. It was India at it’s finest, especially when you consider the fact that the train-workers union was having a protest in the background.

The Hills from the top

Eventually the chaos settled down, and the room became quiet again. About an hour after it was scheduled to leave, they finally called my train. It is on platform three. Luckily I know my Hindi counting numbers so I was able to run over to the correct platform, and I had plenty of time to find the right car. In my 6-person compartment there was a nice older Indian couple, and three English girls who were also going to Darjeeling.

We got to talking, and they told me that they had all moved from England to Australia, where apparently you can make a lot money for unskilled jobs, and then travelled all around Asia. They have all been travelling for about a year, but they had only been in India for 6 weeks. Until this point they been in a tour situation where a company had booked their train tickets and hotels. Darjeeling was the first time that they were on their own.

Darjeeling roads

It was a good thing that they ran into me, because they may have slept through Darjeeling without me. But we all got off the train and took a jeep three hours up the mountain into Darjeeling. It was the most beautiful ride. There were little towns and houses spotting the way up, and there were the most amazing views. It was raining and cold, but after the heat of Varanasi, where it has not been less than 100 degrees in weeks, I loved it.

The jeep dropped us off in Darjeeling, and we found a hotel. By the time we had eaten lunch, our first real meal of the day, it was about 4:00pm. We took a long walk around the town, and every time we went around the curve we were presented with another breathtaking sight. We were at cloud level, and it was absolutely amazing.

Darjeeling

As it was getting dark we headed back to the hotel to shower, but that we put on hold as we started talking for about an hour and a half. The girls are so British, and they have had such interesting experiences we have a lot to talk about, though we only just met each other, After a late dinner in the only place in town open past 9 we headed back to the rooms and within minutes we were all asleep.

It seems as though I have partners for the next few days, so I am not quite travelling alone yet. This trip has already surprised me, both in terms of the way other can treat you and in terms of what I am capable of when I am forced to take care of myself. The next few weeks should be interesting, and I will keep you all posted.