Home last evening after SUCH a long trip home. Packed planes on long trips home are not fun.
When we arrived at Ohare, we were picked up by Linda and Bill and whisked to their house to dinner with Patty and John. Bill made us welcome home manhattans which set the relax mood in high gear. We really hadn’t slept on the plane much or well. The drug induced, alcohol aided sleep does not count for good sleep. Sitting up sleeping is not restful to me. So, when we got to Linda and Bill’s both of us were ready to relax.
It was so nice to be back from the trip. The trip was good/bad and sometimes wonderful. One might think getting cameras stolen was all bad and don’t get me wrong, it is really bad. But it meant that our carry on bags met the limits this time.
I took a shower before dinner and during dinner Linda suggested that maybe to be more comfy, I might put my pj’s on. So I pattered to the bedroom to change and made the mistake of sitting down on the bed. That is the last I remember. I guess I must have melted into the covers and drifted off. I never said good night, never finished my dinner, never said thank you for the care and love in taking care of us. This morning I actually felt like a person. I guess I snored and snorted all through the night and Keith did not sleep well.
We plan to drive back to Kentucky tomorrow when we will hope to be more rested and ready. I am looking forward to being back with our kitties and sleep in our own bed and stand for a long shower in our own bathroom. I will also spend quite a lot of time disinfecting our gross clothing from the trip. Mine suitcase is a world of germs and stinky clothes.
We will also spend some time working with our insurance agent on the claim for the camera equipment stolen. I hope our policy is good to us, but today I cannot remember much about deductibles or what it says about theft.
I am also hoping that the boxes of stuff we shipped home have arrived. I am hoping that all is well with the house.
None of this is very comprehensive, I am afraid. I guess that is a reflection of how my brain is working right now.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Just off the train from Mathura
I woke up feeling much better than yesterday. So,this morning we went down to the old town of Mathura to the ghats on the river and the site of where they claim that Krishna was born. There was an unusual temple with the usual “guides” that wanted money for every thing. We did not give them money since we did not hire them. One guy came over and wanted to put those red smudges on our foreheads for a price, of course. We told him no, we did not need the smudge. Another wanted us to send flowers off into the river, again for a price. We said no. The guide guy kept trying to hurry us along and kept calling to me “Sister, come on, now!”. I finally told him, I was going to look at my own pace in my own way and he should go on without us. In the end, we did not pay him either. We did pay our wonderful driver. In the old town area, there are the strangest old buildings with what seems like art nouveau wrought iron and stone decorations. They were old and pretty amazing in what was a pretty well worn part of town. There were not many tourists there especially westerners. In our hotel there, we were the only non-Indians. And there was no toilet paper in the room. We had our own, but that seemed peculiar. One day, if you ask me, I will try to explain what I think happens…..
At about 3:30 we went over to the train station and caught our train up to Delhi. We rode on a first class car with a Finnish woman and her 12 year old niece who were returning to Delhi after going on a safari in the big national park. They were delightful to talk to.
Now we are at the Clark Heights Hotel that is really posh compared to where we have been. The room is large, clean, with a nice flat screen tv, refrig, great bathroom, and free internet for a few hours. I feel rather spoiled. We ate and now are back in our room. Tomorrow we plan on walking around in Old Delhi since we only got to see if from bicycle rickshaws last time. There is supposed to be some great markets there especially the spice market. We have two nights in this hotel then off to home. Unless something else happens that is greatly noteworthy, I think I will next update when back home.
At about 3:30 we went over to the train station and caught our train up to Delhi. We rode on a first class car with a Finnish woman and her 12 year old niece who were returning to Delhi after going on a safari in the big national park. They were delightful to talk to.
Now we are at the Clark Heights Hotel that is really posh compared to where we have been. The room is large, clean, with a nice flat screen tv, refrig, great bathroom, and free internet for a few hours. I feel rather spoiled. We ate and now are back in our room. Tomorrow we plan on walking around in Old Delhi since we only got to see if from bicycle rickshaws last time. There is supposed to be some great markets there especially the spice market. We have two nights in this hotel then off to home. Unless something else happens that is greatly noteworthy, I think I will next update when back home.
The Last Legs of This Trip
Well, we left Varanasi after meeting some nice nuns and saw the beautiful Nepali Temple. We met some nice folks at the guest house and then went to catch the train for Mathura. The train was 6 hours late getting to Varanasi. The train station was pure chaos and I dreaded the whole experience. Second class AC was the best choice they had and obviously it was not good enough. Sometime after we left Varanasi and before we made it to Agra, our entire load of camera equipment was stolen from our bags. I have no idea how it happened but that thief was a pro. He or she only took cameras and lenses, flashes, batteries, card reader, battery charger. They also took Keith’s new 750 g hard drive, his power supply for the laptop and some memory cards. They left the mac laptops.
The train folks did absolutely nothing to help. Part of me thinks that the train staff might have been the ones; or these young guys with very heavy bags who got off at Agra. When we got to Mathura, we went to the Train Police and filled out a report but that took them over 4 hours to complete. They really wanted us to go away. The man in charge of writing the report, told me that losing the cameras shouldn’t mean anything to us since we were rich Americans. But when they found out what these cameras cost, they did change their attitudes. It was like a horrible comedy of errors and they really wanted to wait us out and have us leave so they did not have to investigate. He explained to Keith that this would make him look bad since he knew the camera stuff was as good as vanished. And since we have insurance, he really did not want to waste time.
This morning, we went out to find a point and shoot and got a little one. There were practically no choices but we got one and went out this afternoon to visit with the widows at their shelter house. The wonderful woman who is responsible for creating this safe haven is this fireball of a 72 year old who one cannot say no to. She is smart, charming, and kind beyond belief. When I asked her how she got interested in doing this work, she said she was a widow, and raised by a widow and when her mom was raising the seven children, it was very very difficult. She got educated and decided to make a difference. Her name is Dr. Mohini Giri. She is with the Guild for Service which has other projects beside the shelter. The shelter is out in the country and is in new buildings where she has 125 widows. The widows live for free in shared rooms but have joint building kitchens, showers, toilets and some courtyard space. They are provided with medical care, physical therapy, and two healthy meals a day. They are mostly pretty old and were destitute on the streets before coming there. They had no future at all. Now they have a place to live out their lives and die with dignity.
Dr. Mohini Giri
Mohini comes to the US regularly since she has a daughter in Michigan near Detroit. She lectures and fund raises for the projects with the widows and other poor women and children. She says she can come when I have my exhibit up and do a lecture to our community. This will have to be worked out but my thoughts are that she is such an interesting person, I don’t doubt her sincerety.
The librarian in the doorway of her room
Today she had a banker out to open bank accounts with nothing in them to be ready for the pensions she worked out for each of them with the government. Up til now, they were not eligible for them since they had been homeless. Now they will each receive 1-500 rupees per month. One of the women we met had been a lecturer at one of the universities and also a librarian. She spoke perfect English and spoke it with a more or less American accent. I don’t know what she was doing there but I will ask Mohini when I email her. She was accompanied down from Delhi with some of her staff and the wife of a famous Indian photographer. Right now, I cannot remember her name or his. All I remember is he did a famous book on the Taj Mahal and she wrote the text. I will search for this book when we have internet access again. This hotel seems to have none.
The widows greeting us
the shelter
I am feeling under the weather again tonight and am sick of feeling sick. Could be that I should not have had fresh milk with my cereal. Who knows. I thought I was going to throw up all day. I would like to be back home just now so I could eat and drink whatever I felt like and have some fresh vegs and salads. Maybe this will pass by the morning.
The train folks did absolutely nothing to help. Part of me thinks that the train staff might have been the ones; or these young guys with very heavy bags who got off at Agra. When we got to Mathura, we went to the Train Police and filled out a report but that took them over 4 hours to complete. They really wanted us to go away. The man in charge of writing the report, told me that losing the cameras shouldn’t mean anything to us since we were rich Americans. But when they found out what these cameras cost, they did change their attitudes. It was like a horrible comedy of errors and they really wanted to wait us out and have us leave so they did not have to investigate. He explained to Keith that this would make him look bad since he knew the camera stuff was as good as vanished. And since we have insurance, he really did not want to waste time.
This morning, we went out to find a point and shoot and got a little one. There were practically no choices but we got one and went out this afternoon to visit with the widows at their shelter house. The wonderful woman who is responsible for creating this safe haven is this fireball of a 72 year old who one cannot say no to. She is smart, charming, and kind beyond belief. When I asked her how she got interested in doing this work, she said she was a widow, and raised by a widow and when her mom was raising the seven children, it was very very difficult. She got educated and decided to make a difference. Her name is Dr. Mohini Giri. She is with the Guild for Service which has other projects beside the shelter. The shelter is out in the country and is in new buildings where she has 125 widows. The widows live for free in shared rooms but have joint building kitchens, showers, toilets and some courtyard space. They are provided with medical care, physical therapy, and two healthy meals a day. They are mostly pretty old and were destitute on the streets before coming there. They had no future at all. Now they have a place to live out their lives and die with dignity.
Dr. Mohini Giri
Mohini comes to the US regularly since she has a daughter in Michigan near Detroit. She lectures and fund raises for the projects with the widows and other poor women and children. She says she can come when I have my exhibit up and do a lecture to our community. This will have to be worked out but my thoughts are that she is such an interesting person, I don’t doubt her sincerety.
The librarian in the doorway of her room
Today she had a banker out to open bank accounts with nothing in them to be ready for the pensions she worked out for each of them with the government. Up til now, they were not eligible for them since they had been homeless. Now they will each receive 1-500 rupees per month. One of the women we met had been a lecturer at one of the universities and also a librarian. She spoke perfect English and spoke it with a more or less American accent. I don’t know what she was doing there but I will ask Mohini when I email her. She was accompanied down from Delhi with some of her staff and the wife of a famous Indian photographer. Right now, I cannot remember her name or his. All I remember is he did a famous book on the Taj Mahal and she wrote the text. I will search for this book when we have internet access again. This hotel seems to have none.
The widows greeting us
the shelter
I am feeling under the weather again tonight and am sick of feeling sick. Could be that I should not have had fresh milk with my cereal. Who knows. I thought I was going to throw up all day. I would like to be back home just now so I could eat and drink whatever I felt like and have some fresh vegs and salads. Maybe this will pass by the morning.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Recalling Udaipur
I recall having provided some basic input regarding Udaipur earlier. It’s the city in Rajastan where we first spent a few days after leaving the Gujarati city of Ahmedabad. I’ll not add any additional information at this point, just some photographs that provide an idea about the general character of the area. And with luck, we’ll be able to make another update or two before we return home in less than a week.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Jaipur and onward to Varanasi…and the temperature RISES!
Not wanting to rub any of the salt from your sidewalks into open wounds, during the past two weeks we’ve been experiencing high temperatures of at least ninety degrees, more recently up into the very high nineties. Now, if we could find a way to merge our relative weather conditions, many of us would be a lot more comfortable.
Referring to Barbara’s bruised elbow that, thankfully, wasn’t broken. I’m providing a few pictures below in the sequence of having been documented.
We arrived in Jaipur just prior to an extended holiday weekend, which made it difficult to get done the many things we hoped to be able to accomplish while there. In any case, we covered a lot of territory and did many things and felt that our time there was well spent.
Jaipur is largely a center of commerce that has grown radically during the past fifteen to twenty years….since the time India opened up to and became a part of the global marketplace. The city is, additionally, steeped in the history of the Moghul Empire and much more. Our first day there, we visited Jantar Mantar, an observatory that was built by one of the Moghul emperors early in the 1600’s….and as I recall, I believe he also established and built the city of Jaipur. The observatory is composed of several separate stations, each to provide one or another astronomical measurements. Being very difficult to describe, the best I can currently offer is to provide some pictures showing some of the measuring devices. It was visually stimulating while being very interesting…what seems yet another approach to attempting to understand the heavens and our place in it, PARTICULARLY that long ago. The west definitely didn’t represent the only people capable of such explorations.
We continued our exploration with a tour of the old town via auto-rickshaw as we made our way to a group of cenotaphs, a group of monuments built in memory of a number of the Maharajas and their families.
Other highlights included a visit to the Anokhi Museum which houses a collection of block printed fabrics and associated information. At the top of the museum, one of the block printers at the museum provided Barbara a hands on experience of the basic processes. So please see photo below.
Also, a nearby temple, the Amber Fort, the Elephant Festival, as well as Galtaji….the monkey temple located not far from town. We were also in Jaipur during the celebration of Holi, which occurred on 1 March this year. Other than just a bit of the pre-celebration of this holiday, we somewhat unwillingly did little to partake of the festivities due to concerns regarding our safety…but we’ll provide some pictures associated with the event as well. Some additional pictures can be seen below.
Representing what I feel to be the most memorable portion of our stay in Jaipur, as I believe Barbara has already noted in her most recent update to the blog, the seeds of a definite friendship with Mesu, our main guide while in Jaipur, and his family were planted. Our main interest in India has always been connected with the character of specific people we meet here….our encounter with Mesu, his family, and his brothers provides us yet another reminder of this specific fact and why we love India as we do. I don’t want to steal Barbara’s thunder regarding our encounter with this wonderful family….so I’ll refer anyone interested to her description. I’ll only emphasize that it’s almost entirely the people who create and make the experience so wonderful and so precious….this is despite the fact that India has more history than most any American might be able to fathom, more buildings that are both beautiful and steeped India’s historical underpinnings. The history, the architecture, India’s much varied landscape, as well as numbers of other things simply add to the general flavor. In short, it’s the people and one’s personal interactions with them that make any place what it is. This is despite any aspects of India that tend to make a person crazy or tired, of which there are many.
The next step…our pair of flights, the first from Jaipur to New Delhi and the second from there to Varanasi, where we spent the better portion of our last stay in India four years ago. Varanasi is located on the west bank of the Ganges (referred to here as Ganga or Gangaji….the “ji” portion suggesting reverence associated with Ganga) and is considered either the holiest or amongst the holiest cities for the practitioners of the Hindu religion…..and as I understand, the place at which a person stands the best chance of finding salvation from the cycle of Karma, assuming one is cremated here with the resulting ashes finding their way into and down the Ganga.
Perhaps we maintain fonder memories of the city from our earlier visit, possibly causing us to impose unrealistic expectations and/or the novelty of our first encounter with such an interesting and historic city. However, my take on the city in general is that it’s become MUCH more affluent during the past four years….seemingly having become centered on money…..AND seemingly far less so regarding the soul and salvation. Imagine that….leaning so heavily toward making quick money with little or no effort….built on what I tend to think of as the more recent western model. It’s no secret that there are plenty of people in India who have tremendous wealth and whose focus is largely on the accumulation of more. And while I feel there’s still a significant focus on the soul at this location, I feel it’s largely been diluted by peoples’ quest for easy money and the resulting scams that are realized most anywhere a person sets foot. I additionally feel that the growth of tourism in Varanasi has brought even greater focus to the quick money making scams and less to what Varanasi is noted for. Looking back the four years since our last visit to Varanasi, I’m very certain tourism has grown immensely. And unfortunately, I most generally feel that when any specific location becomes a destination for tourists, its more genuine character suffers as a result and becomes its fatal blow. I’ll additionally point out that there is currently a VERY strong western component in this city….mostly European, some Asian as well as a very few people from the US. While I recall the occasional encounter with people from the west four years ago, I find the numbers of people from the west has multiplied exponentially….which certainly compounds my feeling that Varanasi has become so largely focused on working the tourist trade. I’m not saying I’m necessarily right about this…but it’s my general feeling at this point.
Despite the feelings I’ve noted above, Varansi is a very remarkable city that’s known to have been in continual existence for over 4000 years. Vibrant isn’t nearly a strong enough adjective to begin to describe its overall character. I’d refer to the understated vibrancy as more or less organic. And, assuming one is down in the midst of what’s happening, the place completely overwhelms and envelops a person….even consumes. Most anything can be seen…and in fact, it will likely be encountered and seen. Given that Varanasi is likely best known for the pyres on the ghats where recently deceased bodies are cremated and the resulting ashes committed to the Ganga, death and life collide here. Just two days ago while making my way upriver to the upper ghats, I passed one of the two ‘cremation ghats’ where four bodies were in the process of being burned, a Hindu tradition based largely on celebration as opposed to the western notion of loss. I don’t know that I necessarily have even a minor grip on the basic philosophical and religious outlook…and I’m certain a person raised in the west will never quite see it in the same way as a person from this part of the world. While I believe I get the general notions behind the celebration and inextricable union of life and death, I find it difficult to be able to imagine not experiencing a substantial sense of loss for a person with whom I’ve shared a close connection at some level. I should also point out that it’s definitely NOT some gruesome type of ceremony as many in the west might tend of think of it. Life and death here are most definitely connected and inseparable….at the same time. While quietly and discreetly observing the assorted ceremonies, a pair of dogs entered the picture playing and/or fighting for a few minutes. And shortly thereafter, some young children (ages five to perhaps eight) entered the small area in which the cremations were in process….attempting to play cricket using a stick and a partially filled water bottle. ALSO, children flying kites, water buffalo meandering through, goats searching for food and grazing on marigolds and other flowers associated with the ceremonies….and most anything else a person might be able to imagine that could be associated with life. Somehow it all fits and functions together. As I’ve suggested before, life collides with death and is embraced as such.
We’re staying at the Ganpati Guest House, which overlooks the river. As Barbara has already noted, it’s quite basic and a place we probably wouldn’t recommend, unless a person wanted to scale down on one’s comfort level. At the same time, I will say that the room tariff is quite reasonable. On the other hand, just one ghat upriver is another guest house we’d more likely recommend to those who might be considering traveling to Varanasi, it’s name being Ramshi Guest House. Actually, if anyone reading our blog is interested in recommendations for possible places to stay while in India, we’re both willing to make suggestions, at least based on the locations with which we’re familiar, which are reasonably few, since India is quite large and VERY diverse!
Barbara has already included in her portion of the blog bits and pieces regarding an auto-rickshaw excursion we took yesterday to and from the museum at Banaras-Hindu University as well as an evening excursion by boat on the river. In it she touched on some of the scam/hustle characteristics that seem pervasive here….unfortunately, to the point I’ve come to expect yet another scam from probably every 3rd to 4th person I encounter on the street, along the ghat, or actually anywhere. And the word NO and/or its Hindi counterpart seem not to mean no in this area, which as one might imagine, gets on the nerves after a while. It also rarely matters just how many times NO is said or otherwise implied. At the same time, I also know most people out hustling are doing so just to survive. Having talked at length with Suki, a person from Cincinnati who has a great deal to do with the Anokhi Museum near Jaipur and who has been doing some level of business in India for the past several years, based on her experiences the costs of essentially everything have risen tremendously during the past four or five years….while any sort of wage for the basic working class has not done so. Substantiating this even further, while on the flight from New Delhi to Varanasi, I happened to be seated next to a man originally from India who, for the past ten or so years has been employed in Silicon Valley. Discussing numbers of topics associated with his experiences and feelings associated with maintaining connections with both worlds, he said he makes a point of returning to India at least once every year or two. Having done so for over a decade, he indicated much the same as did Suki….however, he put some numbers to it. He said that, very broadly, what cost 5 rupees ten years ago will currently cost around 50 rupees….as he stated, “just add a zero to the cost of anything from ten years ago.” He also indicated that there’s been essentially no shift in wages for the common worker, which would suggest that the financial situation of greatest portion of the people of India has gone from very bad by our standards to critical. In the past, I’ve been urged to pay as absolutely as little as possible to anyone in India….and at the same time I’ve definitely come to see and understand the growing problem of this group of people and the plight they appear to be facing. When surrounded by incessant scams, it’s difficult to have any understanding of the reality and how to approach paying a person who’s rendering a service. Looking forward to Mathura and Vrindoban, where we anticipate not being in the midst of 100,000 scams. So, just a few more random pictures to follow.
Referring to Barbara’s bruised elbow that, thankfully, wasn’t broken. I’m providing a few pictures below in the sequence of having been documented.
We arrived in Jaipur just prior to an extended holiday weekend, which made it difficult to get done the many things we hoped to be able to accomplish while there. In any case, we covered a lot of territory and did many things and felt that our time there was well spent.
Jaipur is largely a center of commerce that has grown radically during the past fifteen to twenty years….since the time India opened up to and became a part of the global marketplace. The city is, additionally, steeped in the history of the Moghul Empire and much more. Our first day there, we visited Jantar Mantar, an observatory that was built by one of the Moghul emperors early in the 1600’s….and as I recall, I believe he also established and built the city of Jaipur. The observatory is composed of several separate stations, each to provide one or another astronomical measurements. Being very difficult to describe, the best I can currently offer is to provide some pictures showing some of the measuring devices. It was visually stimulating while being very interesting…what seems yet another approach to attempting to understand the heavens and our place in it, PARTICULARLY that long ago. The west definitely didn’t represent the only people capable of such explorations.
Other highlights included a visit to the Anokhi Museum which houses a collection of block printed fabrics and associated information. At the top of the museum, one of the block printers at the museum provided Barbara a hands on experience of the basic processes. So please see photo below.
Also, a nearby temple, the Amber Fort, the Elephant Festival, as well as Galtaji….the monkey temple located not far from town. We were also in Jaipur during the celebration of Holi, which occurred on 1 March this year. Other than just a bit of the pre-celebration of this holiday, we somewhat unwillingly did little to partake of the festivities due to concerns regarding our safety…but we’ll provide some pictures associated with the event as well. Some additional pictures can be seen below.
Representing what I feel to be the most memorable portion of our stay in Jaipur, as I believe Barbara has already noted in her most recent update to the blog, the seeds of a definite friendship with Mesu, our main guide while in Jaipur, and his family were planted. Our main interest in India has always been connected with the character of specific people we meet here….our encounter with Mesu, his family, and his brothers provides us yet another reminder of this specific fact and why we love India as we do. I don’t want to steal Barbara’s thunder regarding our encounter with this wonderful family….so I’ll refer anyone interested to her description. I’ll only emphasize that it’s almost entirely the people who create and make the experience so wonderful and so precious….this is despite the fact that India has more history than most any American might be able to fathom, more buildings that are both beautiful and steeped India’s historical underpinnings. The history, the architecture, India’s much varied landscape, as well as numbers of other things simply add to the general flavor. In short, it’s the people and one’s personal interactions with them that make any place what it is. This is despite any aspects of India that tend to make a person crazy or tired, of which there are many.
The next step…our pair of flights, the first from Jaipur to New Delhi and the second from there to Varanasi, where we spent the better portion of our last stay in India four years ago. Varanasi is located on the west bank of the Ganges (referred to here as Ganga or Gangaji….the “ji” portion suggesting reverence associated with Ganga) and is considered either the holiest or amongst the holiest cities for the practitioners of the Hindu religion…..and as I understand, the place at which a person stands the best chance of finding salvation from the cycle of Karma, assuming one is cremated here with the resulting ashes finding their way into and down the Ganga.
Perhaps we maintain fonder memories of the city from our earlier visit, possibly causing us to impose unrealistic expectations and/or the novelty of our first encounter with such an interesting and historic city. However, my take on the city in general is that it’s become MUCH more affluent during the past four years….seemingly having become centered on money…..AND seemingly far less so regarding the soul and salvation. Imagine that….leaning so heavily toward making quick money with little or no effort….built on what I tend to think of as the more recent western model. It’s no secret that there are plenty of people in India who have tremendous wealth and whose focus is largely on the accumulation of more. And while I feel there’s still a significant focus on the soul at this location, I feel it’s largely been diluted by peoples’ quest for easy money and the resulting scams that are realized most anywhere a person sets foot. I additionally feel that the growth of tourism in Varanasi has brought even greater focus to the quick money making scams and less to what Varanasi is noted for. Looking back the four years since our last visit to Varanasi, I’m very certain tourism has grown immensely. And unfortunately, I most generally feel that when any specific location becomes a destination for tourists, its more genuine character suffers as a result and becomes its fatal blow. I’ll additionally point out that there is currently a VERY strong western component in this city….mostly European, some Asian as well as a very few people from the US. While I recall the occasional encounter with people from the west four years ago, I find the numbers of people from the west has multiplied exponentially….which certainly compounds my feeling that Varanasi has become so largely focused on working the tourist trade. I’m not saying I’m necessarily right about this…but it’s my general feeling at this point.
We’re staying at the Ganpati Guest House, which overlooks the river. As Barbara has already noted, it’s quite basic and a place we probably wouldn’t recommend, unless a person wanted to scale down on one’s comfort level. At the same time, I will say that the room tariff is quite reasonable. On the other hand, just one ghat upriver is another guest house we’d more likely recommend to those who might be considering traveling to Varanasi, it’s name being Ramshi Guest House. Actually, if anyone reading our blog is interested in recommendations for possible places to stay while in India, we’re both willing to make suggestions, at least based on the locations with which we’re familiar, which are reasonably few, since India is quite large and VERY diverse!
Now we are in Varanasi
We arrived this morning late having gotten up at 4:10 am to catch a flight to Delhi and then one more to Varanasi. We flew Kingfisher this morning and oddly enough, even though a Beer Baron owns the airline, they do not serve alcohol on any domestic flights. Not that we would have had one that early in the morning, but compared to the breakfast served one might have mistaken it for late lunch.
Stepping back to the days before leaving Jaipur: Our time in Jaipur was made wonderful by having met the most amazing family of young men who were our drivers. Suki introduced us to them and she is absolutely correct, they are the best and such nice people. Their grandfather was the elephant trainer for the Royal Family that owns the Diggi Palace haveli once upon a time. Then their father worked for the family and after he died, the oldest son, Mesu began to work for them as they turned the home into the hotel when he was 14.
While we were there, the brothers took us to great out of the way places; taught us lessons and made us all laugh and smile.
What made our stay there was last evening; Mesu asked if we would come to his home to have chai tea with his family. I had asked if I could make a portrait of the family and his brothers at some point that day. So, between other things, they assembled and I did a group shot of the brothers and then while over at Mesu’s home, we shot the family. But then unexpectedly, Mesu’s wife made us dinner of these most delicious vegetables and fresh chapatti. What a delight! We ate the best meal we had all the time in Jaipur.
You know travel is not about architecture, grand sights, or historic tours. It is really only good when it is about the people. And as Mesu said as he dropped us at the airport, “You never say goodbye, you always say ‘See you’ and then you will return again.” What a big-hearted man! What a wonderful family!
We watched the celebration of Holi begin with the Elephant Festival, and better was what we encountered on the way home from there. During the day, the women of the neighborhood where the haveli was located created a large grass tower that was woven together with string and pieces of cloth from what looked like their saris. As we drove past we noticed that the women from the surrounding neighborhood had assembled and were just beginning to make offerings at the tower and light candles. We were told that they do this to rid themselves of whatever bad happened during the past year and to bring in Holi with good. They chanted, smiled, hugged and placed red pigment on each other’s foreheads. I got to photograph within the women’s group. Keith photographed from the outside of the group near where the men were watching and getting ready to participate by lighting the whole tower on fire. It was an amazing sight and ceremony.
An unspeakably sad thing happened that day before we left, just before I made the portrait – one of Mesu’s friends called him while we were out at a jeweler’s shop and he had to run to the hospital. He arranged for another brother, Tabu, to come get us. Their friend’s wife was working at her husband’s shop/market stall and he was in the outdoor part and she was inside. Somehow, her sari veil got blown up into the ceiling fan and she was hanged by it and died. They had been married one year and two days and had just been celebrating with the brothers for their anniversary. Life and death takes on a different meaning it seems in this culture. I am not sure, but they all seemed resigned to the news of her death. They said she was with God now. They were sad but did not take the news like we do at home.
Wed, March 3
Varanasi
After we got settled into the guest house, we rested a short while and then walked the river front ghats. The sky was cloudy and weather warm. We photographed some but neither of us felt we did a great job. This time we went down further than we had ventured last time. Our guest house is not fancy but seems to be fine. It is right on the river between the main ghat and the big cremation ghat or burning ghat. From the roof you can see the Brahman priests put the river to sleep at sundown.
Our door.
Men having their heads shaved for a cremation of a loved one.
The view is not as good as when you are out on the river but tonight we just were not up for that. Our room is at the top of the guest house and has a small semi-private balcony just outside our door. The restaurant here is not much so I guess we will eat elsewhere. We have to decide how we will spend our time here. I think I spotted some widows this evening. I am interested in just observing and photographing from a bit of a distance here. We are here for long enough to get more into the groove of it.
It is nearly a week that we have been in Varanasi now.
I thought this place was magic and in some ways it might be but my feelings have changed with all of the hustle - all of the constant hawking of everything. You think that someone is finally not putting the “Benares scam” on you and they turn out to be one of those annoying and miserable individuals who see only dollar signs and not you. This zaps the magic and spirituality right out of the air.
This is supposed to be the holiest of the holy places for the Hindu, but everywhere people are selling their holiness for cold hard cash. Children begin to work the streets from the time they can talk. Parents send them out to beg or sell useless things to the tourists who don’t want the stuff but are urged to feel sorry or compassion for a scam.
So we were at one of the burning ghats to witness the amazing way the life and death cycle is played out. This man who came to warn us not to photograph began to talk to us and said he worked for the ghat because it was in his family. He would explain the rituals but he was not a guide, he was not selling us anything. He was forthcoming with lots of information about who was cremated, on the ghat, whose remains were weighted down and placed in the river, and whose remains were not allowed on the ghat. We asked some questions but for a long time did not feel the scam coming. I needed to sit down. It was the day after my big belly/intestinal issue. So that is when he began wanting us to donate money for the wood for the poor but we could give it to him, we could give it to him there on the ghat or walk up to the silk factory with him to buy something, change money and then give him the donation. He was a disguised silk salesman or one who got commissions from the silk emporiums and probably was not a ghat worker. Keith gave him nothing and explained when we wanted to donate, we wanted to be sure it went to the real organization that charitably helped people not to someone we met on the ghat. The man was not happy with Keith but continued to press him. Keith used my need to go sit down to get away. Then the man began on someone else.
Then there was the boatman who Keith had talked to on the ghats and had a pleasant conversation. He explained that I was ill that day and that when I was feeling better, we would go for a boat ride to see the sunset and the river ceremony. He was not the man Keith had gone out with the night I was too ill to go. This guy had talked about a price but when we found him last night, that price had vanished once we got onto the boat. He was still being nice then and told how he would get 350-450 rupees per hour from rich people staying at the Taj but since he was our friend and had asked us to come out a few days before, we could pay him whatever we felt he deserved. He would take us on a long slow ride since it was still very early for the ceremony and we would see both ends of the ghat and the other side of the river. (Every morning the river is awakened by prayers and bathing rituals. Every night there is a ceremony that puts the river to sleep.)
But first, his daughter was coming to bring us the little banana leaf bowls filled with flowers and a candle for a good luck wish and money. She arrived and we were asked how many children we had.
“None” was his magic word to decide we were now wealthy since we had no children to be responsible for. The order of these events might be wrong but the talk of cost was still a moving target as we took the ride. From time to time he would begin a conversation with the fact that he was rowing a rented boat and one day he would have enough saved to buy his own. He was able to accumulate about 10,000 rupees in the bank now and needed to have the equivalent of $2000 US dollars to get his boat that was a bit better than the ramshackle one we were in. Oh, and there was his younger daughter just up there on the ghat selling postcards and henna. Oh, and he was going to have to pay for three weddings since he had three daughters and since we had no children, he could be our child. He was not a young man. He took up way up close to the bridge where the train passes and did not get us back to the beginning of ceremony on time. He did not take us down to the other end of the river or across to the other side. He did go slowly. He did not try to position us so we could photograph as he promised. His hustle was on. So when the ceremony as half over we arrived and made some photographs, but he was not careful with the boat and we were rammed a number of times by other boatmen trying to move their customers into closer range. I finally felt unsafe, so I asked Keith if we could go ashore. Keith had determined he would help this man and give him 500 rupees, which was more than he paid before by 300 rupees for the longer better trip he had two nights before. When he gave the boatman the money after I was off the boat and he was on the bow, the boatman told him that that money was for the boat rental but what was Keith going to do to help him buy his new boat? Keith said that money was for all of that but the boatman insisted that it was not enough. To get rid of him, Keith finally gave him some more but let him know that he was not happy with the scam. Keith thought: our karma would be good but his would not since he was not honest with us, as he had said.
However, the sunset was gorgeous, the sites along the river were fascinating, and the ride was mostly peaceful.
We went up to eat and both of us stewed about this for a while. We were really feeling like it is time to leave this town. We don’t have a train for 2 more days. If it weren’t so hard to change a booking of a train sleeper, we would leave today.
Earlier in the day, we went to the Benares (old name for Varanasi) Hindu University by auto-rickshaw to the see the museum. We got this driver who we argued with for a price. He was like a madman driving but got us to the museum and we thought we would just grab another to get back. He insisted on waiting for us and would not accept our money for the ride there. While we were in the museum, he napped. On the way home, emboldened by his rest, he showed us how his rickshaw was new and had this horn that sounded like a car horn not the usual for a rickshaw. I guess there is an unspoken hierarchy for who gets to go first by the sound of the horn. Anyway, he honked it all the way back laughing and smiling at his good fortune. He amused himself by brushing his vehicle against walkers but not enough to hurt them when they would not move over enough to let him through. When we returned back to the old town, Keith gave him a round trip for 300 and 100 more rupees or so for a tip and then the man asked for the most unusual thing. He wanted us to each kiss him on the cheeks of his face. Poor Keith was first and was not sure what the man wanted as he kept putting his cheek up to Keith’s face and pointing at it. He must have thought we were Europeans and that is how they said hello and good-bye. As we got out of his rickshaw, we laughed all the way back.
We attempted to find more Hindu god finger puppets in the toy market part of the lanes in the old town. No luck. This might be an item only found in American markets on line. We have gotten lost in the old town lanes so often; it is now a habit. There are no lane signs or markers only ads for this or that emporium. Those lanes are very narrow and are filled with people, bicycles, motorcycles and animals (mostly cows and water buffalo). Every once in a while, a cow gets spooked and begins to run so people hop out of its way. Yesterday, one came up on Keith from behind and snotted up his shirt with its nose.
Imagine your own town being scattered with freely wandering cattle, goats, chickens, wild boar-looking pigs, dogs and monkeys. Imagine then, one of those big cows laying down right in the middle of the road and not worrying a bit. Imagine a crowded sidewalk littered with dogs sleeping off the afternoon heat and having to climb over them. Imagine having to watch your every step so as not to land in a cow pile or dog poop or a hole in the walkway. And image having to do this while motorcycles or bicycles are whizzing along with their horn screeching. Imagine people all trying to get by each other in this mix of movement. Welcome to the world of traveler in India. No one who lives here thinks it odd.
The cow poop is collected and dried out and used for fuel for heating, or cooking. It is sold in neatly formed rings. Cow poop really does not smell bad, it is mostly grass or whatever cows can forage to eat. It’s the dog poop that is a problem. This is a very indiscreet place. Cleanliness is relative. It is a place where the streets and walkways are constantly being swept, but really only to the pile somewhere along the edge where the animals forage through it and drag it out to the center again. Every once in a while the piles are collected and carted to another location.
We have renamed one of the ghats, the Pee Ghat. For some reason, every time we walk by this one spot, men are peeing there. It does stink; so this must be an historic pee zone thus our new name. If you were not aware, local men pee outdoors in public here all the time. They have their backs to you but there is no mistaking what is going on. I wonder where women pee.
We have also watched people bathing in the river. Women bathe in their sarees and do not expose themselves. Men strip down to what passes for underwear, soap up and scrub with no hint of self-consciousness. The river Ganges is holy and sacred and washing away the dirt, washes also the sins. However, as one tourist from Zimbabwe asked another tourist at the burning ghat, “How can the river be clean when all those bodies are in it from burial, cremation and all the sewage?” He also wanted to know why people went into and drank from the river with those circumstances. Good Question.
There is a movement to clean the Ganges. My guess is that tradition and habit will hamper most efforts to clean it. For thousands of years throughout the generations, this river has been used like it is today. My feeling is that nothing is going to change. But would you eat fish out of this river? Not me.
March 7
Stepping back to the days before leaving Jaipur: Our time in Jaipur was made wonderful by having met the most amazing family of young men who were our drivers. Suki introduced us to them and she is absolutely correct, they are the best and such nice people. Their grandfather was the elephant trainer for the Royal Family that owns the Diggi Palace haveli once upon a time. Then their father worked for the family and after he died, the oldest son, Mesu began to work for them as they turned the home into the hotel when he was 14.
While we were there, the brothers took us to great out of the way places; taught us lessons and made us all laugh and smile.
What made our stay there was last evening; Mesu asked if we would come to his home to have chai tea with his family. I had asked if I could make a portrait of the family and his brothers at some point that day. So, between other things, they assembled and I did a group shot of the brothers and then while over at Mesu’s home, we shot the family. But then unexpectedly, Mesu’s wife made us dinner of these most delicious vegetables and fresh chapatti. What a delight! We ate the best meal we had all the time in Jaipur.
You know travel is not about architecture, grand sights, or historic tours. It is really only good when it is about the people. And as Mesu said as he dropped us at the airport, “You never say goodbye, you always say ‘See you’ and then you will return again.” What a big-hearted man! What a wonderful family!
We watched the celebration of Holi begin with the Elephant Festival, and better was what we encountered on the way home from there. During the day, the women of the neighborhood where the haveli was located created a large grass tower that was woven together with string and pieces of cloth from what looked like their saris. As we drove past we noticed that the women from the surrounding neighborhood had assembled and were just beginning to make offerings at the tower and light candles. We were told that they do this to rid themselves of whatever bad happened during the past year and to bring in Holi with good. They chanted, smiled, hugged and placed red pigment on each other’s foreheads. I got to photograph within the women’s group. Keith photographed from the outside of the group near where the men were watching and getting ready to participate by lighting the whole tower on fire. It was an amazing sight and ceremony.
An unspeakably sad thing happened that day before we left, just before I made the portrait – one of Mesu’s friends called him while we were out at a jeweler’s shop and he had to run to the hospital. He arranged for another brother, Tabu, to come get us. Their friend’s wife was working at her husband’s shop/market stall and he was in the outdoor part and she was inside. Somehow, her sari veil got blown up into the ceiling fan and she was hanged by it and died. They had been married one year and two days and had just been celebrating with the brothers for their anniversary. Life and death takes on a different meaning it seems in this culture. I am not sure, but they all seemed resigned to the news of her death. They said she was with God now. They were sad but did not take the news like we do at home.
Wed, March 3
Varanasi
After we got settled into the guest house, we rested a short while and then walked the river front ghats. The sky was cloudy and weather warm. We photographed some but neither of us felt we did a great job. This time we went down further than we had ventured last time. Our guest house is not fancy but seems to be fine. It is right on the river between the main ghat and the big cremation ghat or burning ghat. From the roof you can see the Brahman priests put the river to sleep at sundown.
Our door.
Men having their heads shaved for a cremation of a loved one.
The view is not as good as when you are out on the river but tonight we just were not up for that. Our room is at the top of the guest house and has a small semi-private balcony just outside our door. The restaurant here is not much so I guess we will eat elsewhere. We have to decide how we will spend our time here. I think I spotted some widows this evening. I am interested in just observing and photographing from a bit of a distance here. We are here for long enough to get more into the groove of it.
It is nearly a week that we have been in Varanasi now.
I thought this place was magic and in some ways it might be but my feelings have changed with all of the hustle - all of the constant hawking of everything. You think that someone is finally not putting the “Benares scam” on you and they turn out to be one of those annoying and miserable individuals who see only dollar signs and not you. This zaps the magic and spirituality right out of the air.
This is supposed to be the holiest of the holy places for the Hindu, but everywhere people are selling their holiness for cold hard cash. Children begin to work the streets from the time they can talk. Parents send them out to beg or sell useless things to the tourists who don’t want the stuff but are urged to feel sorry or compassion for a scam.
So we were at one of the burning ghats to witness the amazing way the life and death cycle is played out. This man who came to warn us not to photograph began to talk to us and said he worked for the ghat because it was in his family. He would explain the rituals but he was not a guide, he was not selling us anything. He was forthcoming with lots of information about who was cremated, on the ghat, whose remains were weighted down and placed in the river, and whose remains were not allowed on the ghat. We asked some questions but for a long time did not feel the scam coming. I needed to sit down. It was the day after my big belly/intestinal issue. So that is when he began wanting us to donate money for the wood for the poor but we could give it to him, we could give it to him there on the ghat or walk up to the silk factory with him to buy something, change money and then give him the donation. He was a disguised silk salesman or one who got commissions from the silk emporiums and probably was not a ghat worker. Keith gave him nothing and explained when we wanted to donate, we wanted to be sure it went to the real organization that charitably helped people not to someone we met on the ghat. The man was not happy with Keith but continued to press him. Keith used my need to go sit down to get away. Then the man began on someone else.
Then there was the boatman who Keith had talked to on the ghats and had a pleasant conversation. He explained that I was ill that day and that when I was feeling better, we would go for a boat ride to see the sunset and the river ceremony. He was not the man Keith had gone out with the night I was too ill to go. This guy had talked about a price but when we found him last night, that price had vanished once we got onto the boat. He was still being nice then and told how he would get 350-450 rupees per hour from rich people staying at the Taj but since he was our friend and had asked us to come out a few days before, we could pay him whatever we felt he deserved. He would take us on a long slow ride since it was still very early for the ceremony and we would see both ends of the ghat and the other side of the river. (Every morning the river is awakened by prayers and bathing rituals. Every night there is a ceremony that puts the river to sleep.)
But first, his daughter was coming to bring us the little banana leaf bowls filled with flowers and a candle for a good luck wish and money. She arrived and we were asked how many children we had.
“None” was his magic word to decide we were now wealthy since we had no children to be responsible for. The order of these events might be wrong but the talk of cost was still a moving target as we took the ride. From time to time he would begin a conversation with the fact that he was rowing a rented boat and one day he would have enough saved to buy his own. He was able to accumulate about 10,000 rupees in the bank now and needed to have the equivalent of $2000 US dollars to get his boat that was a bit better than the ramshackle one we were in. Oh, and there was his younger daughter just up there on the ghat selling postcards and henna. Oh, and he was going to have to pay for three weddings since he had three daughters and since we had no children, he could be our child. He was not a young man. He took up way up close to the bridge where the train passes and did not get us back to the beginning of ceremony on time. He did not take us down to the other end of the river or across to the other side. He did go slowly. He did not try to position us so we could photograph as he promised. His hustle was on. So when the ceremony as half over we arrived and made some photographs, but he was not careful with the boat and we were rammed a number of times by other boatmen trying to move their customers into closer range. I finally felt unsafe, so I asked Keith if we could go ashore. Keith had determined he would help this man and give him 500 rupees, which was more than he paid before by 300 rupees for the longer better trip he had two nights before. When he gave the boatman the money after I was off the boat and he was on the bow, the boatman told him that that money was for the boat rental but what was Keith going to do to help him buy his new boat? Keith said that money was for all of that but the boatman insisted that it was not enough. To get rid of him, Keith finally gave him some more but let him know that he was not happy with the scam. Keith thought: our karma would be good but his would not since he was not honest with us, as he had said.
However, the sunset was gorgeous, the sites along the river were fascinating, and the ride was mostly peaceful.
We went up to eat and both of us stewed about this for a while. We were really feeling like it is time to leave this town. We don’t have a train for 2 more days. If it weren’t so hard to change a booking of a train sleeper, we would leave today.
Earlier in the day, we went to the Benares (old name for Varanasi) Hindu University by auto-rickshaw to the see the museum. We got this driver who we argued with for a price. He was like a madman driving but got us to the museum and we thought we would just grab another to get back. He insisted on waiting for us and would not accept our money for the ride there. While we were in the museum, he napped. On the way home, emboldened by his rest, he showed us how his rickshaw was new and had this horn that sounded like a car horn not the usual for a rickshaw. I guess there is an unspoken hierarchy for who gets to go first by the sound of the horn. Anyway, he honked it all the way back laughing and smiling at his good fortune. He amused himself by brushing his vehicle against walkers but not enough to hurt them when they would not move over enough to let him through. When we returned back to the old town, Keith gave him a round trip for 300 and 100 more rupees or so for a tip and then the man asked for the most unusual thing. He wanted us to each kiss him on the cheeks of his face. Poor Keith was first and was not sure what the man wanted as he kept putting his cheek up to Keith’s face and pointing at it. He must have thought we were Europeans and that is how they said hello and good-bye. As we got out of his rickshaw, we laughed all the way back.
We attempted to find more Hindu god finger puppets in the toy market part of the lanes in the old town. No luck. This might be an item only found in American markets on line. We have gotten lost in the old town lanes so often; it is now a habit. There are no lane signs or markers only ads for this or that emporium. Those lanes are very narrow and are filled with people, bicycles, motorcycles and animals (mostly cows and water buffalo). Every once in a while, a cow gets spooked and begins to run so people hop out of its way. Yesterday, one came up on Keith from behind and snotted up his shirt with its nose.
Imagine your own town being scattered with freely wandering cattle, goats, chickens, wild boar-looking pigs, dogs and monkeys. Imagine then, one of those big cows laying down right in the middle of the road and not worrying a bit. Imagine a crowded sidewalk littered with dogs sleeping off the afternoon heat and having to climb over them. Imagine having to watch your every step so as not to land in a cow pile or dog poop or a hole in the walkway. And image having to do this while motorcycles or bicycles are whizzing along with their horn screeching. Imagine people all trying to get by each other in this mix of movement. Welcome to the world of traveler in India. No one who lives here thinks it odd.
The cow poop is collected and dried out and used for fuel for heating, or cooking. It is sold in neatly formed rings. Cow poop really does not smell bad, it is mostly grass or whatever cows can forage to eat. It’s the dog poop that is a problem. This is a very indiscreet place. Cleanliness is relative. It is a place where the streets and walkways are constantly being swept, but really only to the pile somewhere along the edge where the animals forage through it and drag it out to the center again. Every once in a while the piles are collected and carted to another location.
We have renamed one of the ghats, the Pee Ghat. For some reason, every time we walk by this one spot, men are peeing there. It does stink; so this must be an historic pee zone thus our new name. If you were not aware, local men pee outdoors in public here all the time. They have their backs to you but there is no mistaking what is going on. I wonder where women pee.
We have also watched people bathing in the river. Women bathe in their sarees and do not expose themselves. Men strip down to what passes for underwear, soap up and scrub with no hint of self-consciousness. The river Ganges is holy and sacred and washing away the dirt, washes also the sins. However, as one tourist from Zimbabwe asked another tourist at the burning ghat, “How can the river be clean when all those bodies are in it from burial, cremation and all the sewage?” He also wanted to know why people went into and drank from the river with those circumstances. Good Question.
There is a movement to clean the Ganges. My guess is that tradition and habit will hamper most efforts to clean it. For thousands of years throughout the generations, this river has been used like it is today. My feeling is that nothing is going to change. But would you eat fish out of this river? Not me.
March 7
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