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.

Riding Elephants In Assi

Saturday April 6^th, 10:26 pm

       As I was heading to the program house today I ran into Danielle, Nitish and Sundar Ji and I stopped to chat. Danielle is doing her felid work on the Mahavets (elephant trainers) of Varanasi, and she told me that a Mahavet friend of hers and his elephants were right around the corner. They were going to get samosas for everybody and they would meet me there in a few minutes. I immediately stopped going to the program house and ran to where the elephants were. I managed to tell the Mahavet that I was Danielle’s friend in broken Hindi, and then went to watch the elephants hang out under they trees while their trainers painted their trunks with chalk to get them ready for the religious procession that they were going to.

 

            They were the most beautiful creatures, and way more interesting up close than they are in the zoo. When Danielle and Nititsh got back from getting somosas Danielle was given the honor of “painting the elephant” or adding her own chalk design to the trunk. I got to pet it and could not have been happier. However, when we were right about to leave Nitish asked the Mahavet if I could ride the elephant and amazingly he said "yes"!

            It took a few minutes for the trainers to get the elephant to sit down so I could scramble to the top, and then they told me to hold on to the two ropes that were on his back. Because these elephants are not for tourists, and the people who ride them are all experts they did not explain to me why I had to hold on to the ropes, so I did not hold on very tightly. All of a sudden the elephant stood.

            Elephants are huge, so standing up takes a long time, and at one point the rider is parallel to the ground 10 feet in the air, with nothing keeping them up but the ropes on the back of the elephant. The same ropes that I was not holding tightly. Luckily I was able to grab hold before I fell, but it felt like a roller coaster that had no safety precautions.

            When the elephant was standing all the way up I was in the trees and felt on top of the world. The elephant barley noticed I was there, for men sleep on his back all day long, but I could not have been more aware of the huge creature under me. It was very steady when it was eating, but every time it took a step I found myself grabbing onto the ropes. The slum kids who had come to play were amazed, and the Mahavets were all entertained by my clear awe and delight. I sat on the elephant as it ate and walked around for about 15 minutes before Danielle and Nitish had to go, so I had to get down.

            With the elephant standing I held onto the two ropes and slid down the tail, which apparently is not how you are supposed to get down from an elephant. The Mahavets ran to help me, and with their assistance I was finally back on the ground.

Getting to ride an elephant the way the professionals do was one of the most unique experiences I have had in India thus far. I got to meet Mahavets, which are a dying breed of animal trainer, and to top it all off the elephant I rode was the same one that the King of Varanasi rides when he is in a procession.

Sliding down the tail

The day just got better because tonight Alex and I went to professor Ojha’s house for dinner. It was so nice to see him, and his family was amazing. His wife is an elementary school teacher who is getting a masters in Gender Studies and hates the inequality in India, in addition to raising two amazing kids and being a wonderful cook. His son was a sweet thirteen year old, and the 10 year old girl gave us a kutuk (Indian fold dance style) performance that was the best I have seen so far. We played Geography like my family used to do when we were little and these two kids were amazing. They spoke English almost fluently, and the entire night was a prime example of a happy, modern, Indian family. It was lovely.

Things I learned about elephants:

• Not all elephants have tusks. Those with tusks are a special breed, which are unofficially called “tuskers”.
• Elephants live to be 120 years old.
• Elephant skin is very rough. So is elephant hair.
• There are kings in Varanasi that have the same role as the Queen of England, and even though the palace is falling down and there is no money to fix it, the king still owns elephants.
• When you get on an elephant you must stand on its feet and climb up, because even laying down it is taller than any human being, not to mention one that is miniature size, like me.
• You can decorate elephants skin with sidewalk chalk and it does not bother them
• An elephant penis is kept up when not in use, but when the elephant needs to pee it falls down about three feet and there is a stream probably five inches in diameter. They poop from right under their tail, meaning the poop had to fall down over 10 feet before it hits the ground, causing the huge puddle of pee to splash.
• When male elephants are in heat they excrete straight testosterone from a point above their eye causing them to be very aggressive. (I rode the one that was not in heat).

The Adventures of White Girls: The Journey to Agra

Sunday March 31, 5:49 pm

A few months ago Tania, Alex, and I decided that we would take our Easter weekend and go to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. None of us could really fit it into our traveling schedule, but it is only a 12 hour train ride from Varanasi, and we could not justify coming to India without seeing it. We chose the weekend, chose the destination, and bought the tickets at least a month ago. That is when our troubles began.

We told the travel agent that we wanted to take the overnight train there Thursday night, and the Friday night train back. However, when we told him what we wanted the train office was already closed for the night, so the travel agent told us to come pick them up the next day. We agreed, but the three of us had to bring our passports and go together to pick them up, and we just could not get our acts together. India has totally killed our sense of urgency, and it was tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Finally about a week ago Tania passes the travel agent, and he tells us that if we do not come to pick them up in the next 24 hours he is going to have to give our tickets away. By some magic we managed to get to the travel agent, passports in hand, and pick up the tickets. All was well.

Until….

We assumed we were fine, and just had to get on the train, but in class this Tuesday, the day before the city shut down for Holi, I happened to mention to my history teacher that we were going to Agra to see the Taj on Friday. “That’s wonderful” She exclaimed, “but the Taj is a Muslim holy sight, and it is closed for communal prayer every Friday.” WHAT? For a month we had been trying to get these tickets, and now we were not going to see the Taj? We rush to the travel agent and had to re-buy train tickets back in for Saturday, committing to spend a night in Agra. For a while we were stressed out, but in the end all was well.

Until…

We are comfortably on the train, snacks in hand, having overcome Tania losing the train tickets in her room, and then thinking she forgot her passport. We have settled into our seats and the train has left the station and the men next to us politely asked “So, what are you three doing in Calcutta?”

“Oh, we are not going to Calcutta” I say, “We are going to Agra”

“That’s wonderful,” he says “But this train is going south to Calcutta and Agra is to the north.”

 We had somehow gotten on the wrong train. When everybody else on the train had confirmed what the man had said we more or less freaked out. We hopped off the train at the next exit, a rural place that does not see much tourist action, and get an auto back to the Varanasi Train Station, where we ran to the tourist booth. We hurriedly told the man what we had done and without even blinking an eye or looking at a chart he told us that there was a 6:40 train to one station way from Agra and we could take a bus from there. Great, but it s currently 7:05. On the other hand, it is India, so the train would not be arriving for five minutes. Tainia and Alex went to go try and return our original tickets, and a guard took me to where I needed to go to get new ones.

This turned out to be behind the ticket counter. I walked in, and found myself facing the backs of the ticket sellers who were selling to people on the other side of the glass. An older man noticed me first and asked me what I need. I showed him the paper where the train number was written down, and he handed in to someone one else. While we were waiting we started chatting, and I told him I was a Math Student. “How does two a two make five?” Asked the man. I shrugged and told him I did not know. “It doesn’t, except when you are asleep in India. Then it does. Cause nothing makes sense at night here.” I smiled politely, but let me tell you, if this was a novel that would have been definite foreshadowing.

I was informed that after two hours before a train is scheduled to leave the stations stops selling tickets to everything but General Class, to which they never stop selling tickets. Everyone is just supposed to stuff their way in. It is almost as if the El or Subway had overnight trains. You get whatever space you can get, and that was it. However, once you got on the train if you had money you could upgrade your class by talking to the conductor. All we had to do was find a train official and we would get beds in Sleeper Class, which we had initially planned on travelling in. I got the tickets and after the sprint that would make the hallways of ETHS proud we managed to find our train compartment. All was well.

Until…

We jumped into the train as it was starting to leave the train station, and turn around to 30 Indian men starting at us. Three white girls in general class. This does not happen.

 Under this scrutiny we walked through the car on the search for a conductor, but none was to be been. We ended up in the back end of the last car in the train, and we were faced with a choice. Do we go and find a conductor, and attempt to find beds, though we will be separated, do we stay in general class and try to find seats and not be able to sit together, or do we huddle on the dirty metal floor behind the last row of seats, where at least we would be together and there was a wall between us and the men’s eyes.

On the floor of general class

Because we were not sure where to find a conductor, and we certainly did not want to sit alone we decided to stay on the floor next to the doors, and away from the men. A nice man who had been sitting there before respectfully left even though it was the coolest part of the compartment, and warned us that men sometimes tried to jump on the train without a ticket, so under no circumstances were we supposed to open the door. Slightly freaked out we nodded and sat down. The floor smelled like pee and looked even worse, but at least there was a breeze from the window in the door, and we were together.

By that time we were exhausted from all the excitement, and we could not believe where we were. With the help of the snacks we brought along and a general sense of adventure we decided to make the best of it. We took the attitude that on the whole this situation was hilarious. It is a select group of foreign women who have ridden in general class, on the floor no less, and with a laugh we joined the club.

Princess Alex and the peasants
sleeping on the floor

For a few hours we laughed and talked, but when it was time to go to bed we were in another predicament. How were the three of us going to sleep in this cramped spot while keeping out stuff safe? We tried a few positions out, but in the end Princess Alex ended up being able to lay complete out, while Tania and I huddled under sheets with cold wind blowing on us from the windows in the doors that could not be shut. Alex and Tania managed to go in and out of sleep, and while I did not sleep I was not totally uncomfortable. The car lights were still on, but the car was quite and peaceful. All was relatively well.

Until…

About two in the morning we stop at a major station and the first major influx of people come into the car. Everyone starts jockeying for seats, and a fight breaks out. It almost came towards us, but the man who had told us about train jumpers managed to stop them, saying no one could go back there because there were foreign ladies. It was scary, but after a minute everything died down, and the car was once again calm.

An hour later the nice man woke us to tell us that he had to get off the train, but our stop was the next major one. We thanked him and he was gone. We got up, organized our stuff, and at the next stop, under the directions of the other men in the car, got off the train. We headed out to look for the bus that would take us to Agra, and all was well.

Until…

It was four in the morning, so no buses were running. We did not really know where we were, but we were clearly not getting to Agra before sunrise. There was a bus tour of Russian people who we followed for a while, but they said they were going someplace different, and they did not really seem to understand India away. However, some of the orderlies who were helping them told us that the buses started running at 7am. Knowing that we were safer waiting for the bus at the train station then taking an auto into Agra when we did not have a hotel reservation we headed into a chaii stand, to wait for three hours. We entertained ourselves with discussions of the pace of Indian modernization, Alex’s secret Dungeons and Dragons history, and my pathetic ability to make 185 jokes. (We all know how bad I am at those in general, but at this point I was out of practice and sleep deprived, but they were too so they thought I was funny.) The chaii stand people liked us, and we had a generally good few hours.

At 6:30 we got on an auto that took us to the bus stop, where we found the bus that took us to Agra. Another auto drive later, we had finally made it. We found a hotel, managed to bargain the room down to half the offered price, and settled in for a nap. By this time it was 8:00am, and we were willing to put off our adventures for sleep.

As a way to deal with the situation we made good and bad lists on the train. We kept them up through out the rest of the trip, but here is the first installment.

Things that went wrong on the way to Agra

Taj is closed of Fridays

Travel agent almost gives away tickets

Travel agent cannot read military time and tells us the wrong time for our train. Good thing I can

Tania forgets she has the train tickets

Tania thinks she forgets her passport

We get on a train to Calcutta

We try to get off on the wrong side of the train

Auto driver tries to get 400 rupees from us. Alex chooses to sit on her backpack

We go to the wrong part of the train station

We buy tickets for a train whose scheduled departure time has already passed.

Tania had to budge Indian men in line

We cannot find the track

Walk in the wrong direction on the train making us sprint back to…

GENERAL CLASS
We have to sit on the floor being undressed by Indian eyes

The chocolate bars were expired

Tania forgets a sheet to sleep on

The floor smells like pee

We don’t know how to say the train station name

Things that went right on the way to Agra

• We finally get on a train to Agra
• We have our health
• Tania knows where her passport is
• Snickers bars are delicious            
• Wal-Mart brand raisins: Also yummy
• Nice men on both trains
• Helpful men at train stations
• Floors are dry. It is no longer raining
• Figured out we were headed to Calcutta before we got to Calcutta.
• Train does not feel like jail
• Our outfits look coordinated, with a black and maroon theme
• Not SO many bugs or SOO many people
• No extraneous mammals
• Shira gets to use her raincoat
• Tania does not have a migraine
• Alex told a funny poop story
• HILARITY
• Alex finds 5 Rupees: cool gold coin
• Shira finds extra hand sanitizer in purse
• Cookies

A Very Holi Passover

Friday, May 29, 9pm

To all of my lovely Jewish friends I hope you all are having a wonderfully board game filled Passover, and to all of the Indian’s out there, if anyone knows how to get Holi color off of white skin, let me know. This is real life white people problems.

Anyhoo… I know it has been a while since I posted, but I will be making up for it in the next few days, So lets begin.

JEWS START HERE

My Passover/ Holi experience began Monday night, when I went to Chabad for the Seder, an all Israeli event, but pretty standard nonetheless. If you have been to one Chabad seder than you have been to them all. The only thing worth mentioning is that there were two friends there, one with a V neck Bob Dylan shirt that was far to low, and the other with a Jimi Hendrix shirt that was way to tight. Yup, Israeli men.

The second Seder however, was anything but ordinary. Assuming it would be much like the first, I showed up at 8:00, hoping to get there just as they were finishing up Mariv and moving to the seder. However, when I got there the gate was locked, and no one was around. It was yuntive so I could not ring the bell, though the Indian’s watching me struggle kept telling me to do so like I was an idiot. I knocked on the gate and the Rebbison, Aviva, came to the widow. She waved and let me in, informing me that the whole family had been sleeping, and they probably would be sleeping to morning if I had shown up. By this time it is 8:20, and she just starts to wake up the family, and prepare for the seder. We don’t actually start the seder until 9:45 (great for my 10:00 curfew).

Oh wait. Did I forget to mention that out of the thirty people who showed up the first night I was THE ONLY ONE TO COME TO SECOND SEDER. I had a Chabad seder all by myself, just me and the family. AWKWARD. Especially because the family sat at one table, and I sat at another. Why? not quite sure, but whatever.  They still did the seder in all Hebrew, and made me read out loud for the first time in years. At first the Rebbison assumed I did not know how to do mariv at all, but when she found out I could she made the assumption that I knew the prayer for the counting of the omer by heart. Seeing that I didn’t she assumed that I could not wash my hands without instruction, and gave me a lecture on the heathenism that is India, and about how Jewish souls do not like it when you go into Hindu temples. I chose not to mention that I would be celebrating Holi the next day.  At 11:00 I had to leave and we were still at the maror, but I had no choice.

It was by far one of the weirder Jewish experiences I have ever had. I felt like I was spying on the family from across the room. The thing that stuck me the most however, how causally the seder was run. Every paragraph or so that rabbi got up, walked around, got something else we were going to need that they forgot about, and simply chilled out. It seemed as though the seder was just no big deal to them, and they did it every night. The little ones singing the four questions was lovely though.

NON JEWS START HERE (You will not care/understand about the first half)

Boys in the streets

Holi, a very popular Hindu festival turns into one of the most dangerous events in Varanasi. It is universally recognized that it is not safe for girls to go outside after 6 on the first day, when there are huge bonfires all across the city, or before 3pm on the second day. Holi is celebrated by throwing colored power or liquid at your friends and family, but the liquid is sometimes scalding hot an made from weird chemicals. The men are all drunk and high off Bhung, and scary things that happened to people a lot more prepared for it then I would be.

Because of this, I spent the morning in my house reading on the roof, watching the boys in the street. I have never seen the streets so empty, and if the silver, pink, and purple that covered everybody was replaced with black and grey it would have looked like the scary dystopias of the literary world. There were gangs of boys yelling at each other, covered in liquid, with ripped clothes, running around banging on tin caps, shooting out of (water) guns, and throwing things at house wives. There were NO women or cars or even rickshaws on the street. The happy colors made it fun to watch, but it was kind of scary nonetheless.

Playing Holi with the Fam

At about noon my family called me down to “play Holi” and we went into the backyard to throw dry colors at each other. It was so much fun watching the dogs go crazy, and the grandkids who were in from university play with Grandpa Ji. We all got covered, and my skin dyed so bad that three days later I am still pink.

 After showering twice and a short rest it was 3:00 and finally safe for me to leave. I went outside was shocked to find the streets empty. The gangs of boys had gone inside for lunch, and no one else had come out to replace them. I had to walk 15 min just to find a rickshaw, when I usually get asked if I want one every 15 seconds. I was going to Twinkle’s house, a girl who works at the Gateway Hotel where Mom stayed at when she came, and wanted to be my friend. I had kinda rudely ignored her up to this point, but I agreed to come to here house for Holi.

 

Her house was the first truly Indian house I had been in, for the house I live in is fairly western. There were four tiny floors with even smaller rooms, and about 20 people of all ages lived there. The whole extended family lived together, and they all treated each other as though they were part of the same nuclear family. To say I was the guest of honor would be an understatement. They made me a huge plate of food, which they watched me eat, and all wanted to take pictures with me. We had a hilarious dance party, which was super funny until the 8 year old girl was showing off her dance moves that ended up being a mixture of Bhangra and stripper moves. I was a little uncomfortable.

Me and the girls at Twinkle's

The rest of the visit nice, but when they were walking me back to a place where I could pick up a rickshaw they kept on pointing me out to the people they had met. They would say things in Hindi like “look at my white friend” or “this is my guest, she is foreign”. I have never in my whole life felt like more of a spectacle, even when boys are trying to take pictures of me walking down the street. It kind of put a damper on the visit, but over all it had been a great day.

I am in Agra now, and about to go see the Taj Mahal, which you will hear about shortly, so I am off. Don’t worry, the lists and musing will be back.

Shiva Ratri

Monday, March 11, 2013 2:02 pm

Yesterday was Shiva Ratri, the celebration of Lord Shiva’s marriage to Pavarotti, and Varanasi is the city of Shiva. To put it simply, this means yesterday was a big deal. People from all over India went to the Kumbah Mela, then came to Varanasi in order to celebrate in Shiva’s hometown. In the center of town, there were millions people who waited all day for the chance to worship in the Vishunat Temple, the most important Shiva Temple in the world, and everywhere you looked there were young men high as the sky, worshiping in any and every way.

Not the best place for a small white girl. I stayed home for most of the day.

But don’t worry; I celebrated in style in my house, for Devin, Karen, and I were invited to the family Puja. Il’l give you the cliff notes

A merry band of five priests showed up at around 11:00, and proceeded to set up the massive amounts of materials required for the ceremony. At 12:00 the chanting began, and one of the younger priests helped Menu Ji and Vijya Ji, my host parents, put the right things in the right places in the right order, while doing in the right hand motions. I was lost five minutes in, and there was a long road ahead.

The bowl before the juice
and the youngest priest

We had moved the furniture in my sitting room, and were all sitting on the floor surrounding a small table with a gold bowl containing a Shiva Linga and a statue of Vishnu. Basically, we were making offerings to the gods, which is something that is done daily in temples, but on Shiva Ratir is was done in is epic proportions.

After about 40 minutes of preparatory chanting, blessing, and offering the main event was about to begin. (We were going from Kabbalat Shabbat to Mariv).

The youngest and fittest priest got up, picked a huge pot up off the table and set it down next to Menu Ji. She took off the cover and inside was 10 liters of green liquid. Me being the Indian crops expert that I am, was able to identify it was sugar cane juice, gaining mad brownie points from the family (Thanks village men). Menu Ji poured a few ladles of it into a horn-looking thing with a tiny spout on the end and they let the juice fall onto the statues. (They were bathing Shiva’s penis in what looked like pee. Wha wha. I am a thireteen year old boy.) After a little while Vijiya Ji gave the spout to Menu Ji and she took a turn pouring.

And then vijya ji.

That silver thing is what the juice
 was poured out of

And then Menu Ji again.

And then it had been 21 minutes of watching juice fall. The priests look bored

28 minutes:  The priests take something out of another pot. We are going to move on!!!

Nope. The bowl is not big enough for all of the juice, so he is scooping some out into an empty pot so we can keep pouring

32 minutes: Grandpa Ji is asleep.

40 minutes: Juice is still going strong. Priests, not so much

 47 Minutes: Take a break so Menu ji can pick up the phone. Nope, not a break, Vijiya Ji is still pouring.

64 mintues: We begin to pass around the horn so everyone can have a turn

72 Minutes: JUICE IS DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

73 Minutes: Oh wait, now it is time for the milk. The green of the sugar cane juice is being diluted with the white of the milk, and it may be the most vile thing I have ever seem in my life.

2 liters of milk later we are finally done pouring. I am exhausted, but I am not the one who has been chanting non-stop for the last two hours. There is still more to be done, but at least we get to stand up for a while, and the juice is over. We all take turns waving fire around the bowl, and throwing flowers into the alter (I get reprimanded for using my left hand) and then we pass out different kinds of sweets and food.

Pouring the sugar cane juice

At the very end everyone ties red and yellow string around their wrists, and the priest put mine on my left hand, which apparently signifies that I am married. I am okay with that.

Three hours after the chanting began it stops. It is time for lunch.

BUT WAIT! Shiva Ratri is a fast day.

 When I questioned Menu Ji about that she looked at me like I was an idiot, and told me we would be eating fasting food. Everyone knows you can have fried things, dairy, fruit, and sweets on fast days. How else would you do it? I choose not to mention that in her house we eat fruit, dairy, fried food, and sweets everyday. Instead I smiled and sat down to eat.

Assi Crossing at Night

10 liters of sugar cane juice leftovers

I want everyone to take a minute and appreciate the fact that these priests had just chanted for three hours straight, and they would the same thing at between 5 and 8 other homes before the night was out. I have no idea how they made it though.

Later that night, when most of the festivities had died down Tania, Devin, and I ventured down to the ghats, which were packed with people, and there seemed to be parties going on everywhere. The city was as aglow as a 6000-year-old city, which not completely outfitted with electricity, could be, and the vibe was energizing. We stopped into an Indian Classical Concert, and took pictures around town. We then went home for more fried food, dairy, and sweets. I went to bed a little nauseous.

Things we offered Shiva:

Marigolds

Purple flowers

Coins

Some of the dry offerings

Money notes

Rice

Oranges

Banana

Grapes

Bheer (a greet fruit thing)

Guava

Coconut

Pointy fruits

Other fruits I don’t know the names of

Sweets

Red, yellow, and white, string

Leaves

Curd

Sugar

Milk

Sugar cane juice

Water

Honey

Spices

Fire

Candles

Khajuraho- Living History and Mythology

Sunday, March 3, 2013 10:42am

Right now I am sitting in the hotel lobby in Khajuraho, the location of the spring break trip sponsored by the program, and I have been having the most wonderful time.

We left Varanasi Wednesday night, to take the twelve hour train ride to Khajuraho. The Indian train system is really good, but it is still Indian, so it is tightly packed and a little dirty. We were in the third highest class, so we have little booths of six, which convert into six benches that are to be used as beds. In this class you get two sheets and a pillow, and there is a curtain to close your compartment off. Because there are six girls in my program we were all together, and it was like one big sleepover, where no one slept well at all. We did watch The Aristicats though. That was great.

We got to Khajuraho at 6 in the morning, only 1 hour late, and walked out of the charming train station to the beautiful fields that surrounded it. Everywhere we looked was green, the dogs looked healthy, and there was relatively little trash. I was in heaven. We went to our hotel, slept until nine, had breakfast and went out to for the first sights.

Yeah. There are way more like this one.

Khajuraho is a small village, but a very popular tourist site because of the temples that are all around the city. These temples are from about 900 AD to 1100 AD, but are in very good shape, and have needed relatively little restoration. The real reason people come though, is because the temples have the most beautiful carvings and stone statues, including VERY erotic ones. On these temples you see everything from simple intercourse, to interesting sex positions, to threesomes, to homosexuality, to bestiality. Yes, bestiality. Men having sex with horses and elephants. In Stone. On temples. Right next to these are sculptures of war, society, and gods.

We went to the first group of temples, the Jain group, and had an interesting lecture from Professor Ojha, who we brought along for the ride. We had a great time looking at the temples, wandering around, sitting in the sun, taking pictures, and sketching what we saw.  Because we were all exhausted from not sleeping on the train, we decided to take the afternoon easy, so after lunch we went back to the hotel, napped, and then had a class about Tantric ritual.

Then it was off to the Sound and Light Show at the western group of temples. Right as the sun was going down we sat in plastic chairs in the middle of a field, and a booming voice came out of a speaker. It was a silly, but well-done, show about the history of Khajuraho, done through sound recordings and lighting the temples and the surrounding trees. It was so weird, but I did learn a lot.

Statue of a boar, with the 10 forms of Vishnu,
on of the three major Hindu gods, carved in

The next morning we were off to the southern and eastern group of temples, a lecture on Hindu religion at the time of the temple building and more beauty and laughter then I have had in a while. Also more photos.

After lunch we went to by far the most impressive set of temples, the western group, where the light show had been the night before. Walking in took my breath away, for in one compound was beautiful gardens and trees and six absolutely stunning temples, each one of which would have been an amazing tourist site by themselves. They were huge and beautiful, and very, very erotic.

The weird thing was, when walking into this compound I felt more at home than I have since I got to India, for it had the same feeling as a sunny day on the quad at Rochester. While the temples were more beautiful than anything you will ever find in America, they were all made of the same material as each other, like Rochester’s red brick, and the greens between them were the perfect mix of trees and grass, with people strolling down the sidewalks that criss-crossed them. It was so nice, to just sit on the step of a temple and breathe in the history and skill that filled the place.

Outside of one of the Western Temples

That night we went to an AWFUL, but hilarious, folk dance show. The dancers were like fifteen, and the all looked like they wanted to kill themselves more than they wanted to be performing. It was sloppy and not very interesting, and but funny in its awfulness all the same.

Monday March 4, 2:15pm

HAPPPY BIRTHDAY SAMMY!!!!

Well, now that I got that out of the way, back to the trip.

Saturday was the best day of the trip by far, because we spent the whole time in some of the most beautiful nature that I have experienced. The paths of Wisconsin or the mountains of Pennsylvania have nothing on India.

First it was off to the Pandav falls, where the Pandava brothers spent their 14 years of exile in The Mahabharata (You go Professor Brooks!). The waterfall was breathtaking, and it fell into a heart shaped lake surrounded by trees, trickles of fresh mineral water clean enough for an American to drink.

I was so excited to be in nature I spent the whole time climbing on the rocks and boulders that surrounding the lakes, scaring the crap out of the program staff, who though I was dumb enough to do that without checking the stability of the rocks, knowing how to swim, and knowing that Alex was a lifeguard. I climbed trees and got a little wet, and napped in the sun on a boulder. It was just like the hikes we used to do at camp, but 1000 times better.

Tania and I at the temples

Then it was off to the Panna Tiger preserve, where even though we did not see any tigers we did see all sorts of birds, trees, deer, and monkeys. We got to ride in a jeep like they do on safaris in the movies, and looked through binoculars in order to find the animals the guides had spotted. It was so much fun. We saw the sun set over the mountains, and took a nighttime joy ride back down it.

Amazing Italian food finished off the night, and we gathered together to watch a chick flick before bed.  That is what we call quality life.

Sunday was a relaxed day, for we had the morning off, and a folk dance workshop from the same people who were in the awful show. All the students and all of the staff participated, including Professor Ojha, which was one of the funniest things that I have ever seen. Everyone was a good sport, so it was just two hours of constant laughter. We were not very good, or very serious, but we all enjoyed ourselves.

After lunch it was back to the western temples for another look, then back on the train to go back to Varanasi.

Mission Khajuraho: Completed

Things learned at the Panna Tiger Reserve:

• Ladu, my favorite snack, is made out the ghost tree, a white tree that looks like a mosaic painting.
• Deer and monkeys tend to be friends.
• There are three types of deer of in India, and some lose their horns every year.
• The Ken River is the cleanest river in India, because no waste or garbage is poured into it.
• There are only 16 tigers in the whole reserve, but they mostly came from other places. 5 years ago there were no tigers left in the park, so they had to bring in more.
• The tigers are micro chipped for tracking purposes. There are elephants in the park, but they are domesticated, and used by the forest preserve people.
• Poachers are a really big problem, even in the reserve, especially in the villages that are in the reserve.