The things that no longer matter

It's funny the things that no longer matter to you when you've been living in India for a month. Last night I ate okra. Yes, real green okra. Then I ate cabbage. Before bed I decided that not showering was much more appealing than feeling ice cold water down my back. I went to sleep on yet another paper thin and hard mattress and slept like a baby. This morning I washed my face and braided my hair and forgot to put makeup on. Yes, forgot. Then I ate breakfast and had eggs without ketchup. I even ate the crust on my toast. When you're pretty certain you've never even seen 80% of the foods on your plate eventually you just eat it all anyway without even noticing. When you're with 10 girls on a houseboat for 2 days you forget to wear makeup. And when the mud squishes up between your toes and your sandals you worry about cleaning up later or you just dip your feet in the river. When it's rained for the last 3 days you're no longer concerned that you wore that outfit yesterday because all the clothes in your backpack smell like mildew anyway. I have a clean face and clean hands, a full tummy, a rested mind, shoes on my dirty feet and smelly clothes on my back. I'm content :) it's India! I can hardly believe our trip is almost over. It seems as if we've only just arrived. Sometimes I feel so lucky to have received this experience in my life and I don't understand how I am so blessed, but I am so thankful for everything we've done and learned. Maybe I feel a few inches closer to knowing my calling life, maybe not, but I do know that India is a beautiful country deserving of so much more than it has and I am so glad I came here :) and all things considered, I absolutely loved all of it.

Not sure there will be much to blog about from our last 3 days in Coimbatore so I may be signing out for now! Until my next adventure, Thanks for listening and hope you enjoyed :)

Our Houseboat on the Backwaters in Allepey

The Arabian Sea, Indian Ocean, and the Bay of Bengal all come together to feed the largest lake in India, called the backwaters. There are over 260 houseboats on the water and numerous canals have been formed to lead up to a village of homes and farmland.

Farming in Allepey is actually below sea level, which is the only place in the world like it. Basically our experience on the houseboat was meant as a MUCH needed 24 hours of relaxation. We spent the whole day floating the backwaters, reading, napping, and eating DELICIOUS food native to Kerala. Our boat had a kitchen, 4 bedrooms and 4 bathrooms, and a common room at the front of the boat with a big table and couches. We enjoyed our long day of relaxation and woke up the next morning for our drive back to Coimbatore!

Happy 4th!

July 4th: We woke up late (8 am) the next morning, so thankful to have slept in a bit and had some breakfast. Traveling with 10 females for the last 3+ weeks has been a bit overwhelming for me so I decided to take a little solo walk down to the river. At the edge of the hotel property was a tall fence with a locked gate. Well, fence nor locked gate has ever stopped a Fulkerson or a Wyoming girl so I just jumped the fence and went on my merry way getting a few strange looks from some fishermen downstream. It was an absolutely beautiful morning on the river. The scenery reminded me of our camping spot up Wood river with huge mountains surrounding me plus a thick, dense, wet jungle. The sun was shining just enough to dry up the dew without it being too unbearably hot. There were men swimming, little boys fishing, some men doing their laundry on the rocks. Throughout our entire experience here I've often found Indians to be very interested in meeting and talking to us. One man came up to me and asked my name and where I was from. He said he was trying to practice his English as he is tying to open up his own business down the road. I was happy to help him out and learn a bit about him. He had previously worked for a company which exported 180-thread count sheets and prior had worked for a U.K. based management company. We talked about the river which lead to talking about the Ganga and he said that this river was nothing like the Ganga. Instead of being filled with ash, he said it was a healing river, full of the roots of the best Ayurvedic plants and trees in India. He pointed out the falls that my group would be visiting later and I taught him the word "mist." Just as everyone else I've met he espressed his extreme gratefulness for speaking with me and we went our separate ways. Unfortunately when hopping the fence back I ripped a huge hole in the butt of my pants (yes Katy, my Piranha pants) but I suppose that's the karma I get for trespassing haha.

Next we got onto the bus and headed for the Athirappally waterfalls. We spent probably 45 minutes in awe of the beauty and sheer force of all that water. When it would rain all the Indians would pull out their coats and umbrellas but I laid out on the rocks and let my body soak it all in. Between the heat of the sunbaked rocks and the cool of the light monsoons I laid in bliss. Still though, I couldn't help but wish a little bit that I was waking up to meet everyone on main street for the parade. I did my best to shake the negative thoughts out of my head as Kathryn suggested we try to catch frogs. By we, I mean her, and "try" was the key word. Eventually w gave up and took a hike down to the bottom of the falls. It was a pretty steep hike but my chaco flip flops have a surprisingly good grip. At the bottom was the loudest, wettest roar of thundering, foamy, misty water spraying us from every angle. Getting absolutely drenched was unavoidable, and this point, being wet was becoming a bit of a theme for the trip anyway. I couldn't help but climb on top of the highest rock I could find (without Mr. Waterfall Police blowing his big bad whistle at me...as he had already done twice to Kathryn and I for going outside the roped off area) and throwing my arms up into the air letting the waterfall's spray soak me all through my clothes and skin. Eventually all of us were on the rock screaming and smiling and absolutely loving our 4th of July.


Now the hike back was another story. We decided to follow some Indian men who seemed like they were taking an off-trail shortcut (I know, not the most eco-friendly thing we could have done). Usually following the Indians always produces the best outcome: they lead you safely across a busy street and into the best restaurants. But when taking an even steeper shortcut from an already steep trail after 3 weeks of carbo loaded indian food, well, let's just say I was a bit winded. But I figured I better toughen up because if Indian women in their Sarees and sparkly heeled flip flops can do it I better just bite the bullet and trek it on up.

We finally made it back to the bus and saw 2 more waterfalls before heading back for lunch. After lunch a fat nap was in order, obvi, so I fell asleep and didn't wake up until 6:30 pm. Oops, clearly my 15 minutes of strenuous hiking had wiped me out haha. By now a full on monsoon had hit so I pulled out my raincoat and went for a walk with some of the girls. Oh how I wish I could just pack up the sounds of this place and mail it home to you all! As if the sound of rainfall isn't enough, there's the river flowing by, the tropical birds chirping, the frogs croaking, the insects buzzing...I'm sorry but there's just no other way to describe it but magical (or Fern Gully-esque I suppose). Once it started to get dark we headed back to the hotel for dinner and our beer in a meager celebration of our country's independence. Though today was nothing like my usual parade, city park market, hot dogs, cliff jumping, Stampede rodeo, silver-dollar bar type of 4th of July, it was certainly a memorable one in itself and a perfect 4th in its own way.

Now to bed for our 4 am departure to the house boats! The last day of our Journey through India awaits and soon we'll be back to Coimbatore!

The Kerala Jungle

July 3rd: Kerala is the beauty if India. Even in the heart of monsoon season I feel it is, as I have described many of my experiences here, magical. Unfortunately from a rickety plane in the sky, the monsoons don't feel quite so magical. The turbulence was probably the worst I've ever felt. Lucky I hadn't thrown up but once we landed I knew we still had a 2 hour drive to our hotel. Driving narrow winding roads with an Indian driver means lots of break-gas-break motion, lots of honking, last minute swerving, and just generally driving unnecessarily way too fast. I felt like I was 4 years old again driving in the backseat of my mom's Subaru getting carsick in the heat of Arizona. I was bummed to not give my full attention to all the glory of Kerala since my face was inside SpiceJet's motion sickness bag, but then our tour guide let me have shotgun. Being able to watch the road eased my motion sickness and allowed me to take in all the wonder of the wet jungle around me.

Once we got higher in elevation it almost seemed like the jungle was encroaching so far into the already narrow road that I bet if cars didn't drive for even 1 or 2 days it would disappear entirely. Trees and grass and vines were reaching out toward the pavement, probably trying to get a bit of sunlight through the dense forest behind them. It was raining pretty hard but it wasn't at all scary like when we drove back from Ooty, it was beautiful. On the way we stopped to pick up some beer in hopes of creating some sort of a fun memorable 4th of July experience for ourselves the next day. Upon arriving at the liquor store there was a huge line of men going down the alley waiting to make their purchases. Note I said men, no women were in line at all. Our tour guide took us to the front of the line where we cut all the men. I got a lot of nasty but disapproving looks from the men waiting. I suggested that it wasn't fair for us to cut the line but the tour said it was okay because we were women. I really felt like it was more likely that we were allowed to cut because were Americans or because were tourists because on the way out one of the men in line made a firm comment at us, "this is MY country." I knew we should have waited in line but our tour guide firmly insisted so we went along with it.

Finally we arrived at our hotel which is literally in the middle of the Indian rainforest, right on the banks of a river. Kelsey and I went to our room only to find the biggest spider of my life just chilling on our back porch. It was literally the size of Kelsey's hand.

After we let out enough high pitched little girl screams some staff came and tried to catch it. At this point we learned that in addition to looking absolutely terrifying Mr. Spider could also jump. Greaaaat. They eventually caught it with a broom and after a confusing argument between Kelsey and I as to whether or not the man should kill the spider he just brushed it off the porch into the bushes. (I'm sure you guessed I wanted it dead, but Kelsey insisted...you can see how the man didn't know what to do especially since he probably only spoke Hindi) After that experience were definitely going to put up the bug net. It took some creative handiwork since there were no hooks but we utilized our resources (rubber bands and twistie ties) and rigged it up pretty well.


Next we went for dinner at the hotel restaurant where we experienced yet again the Indian culture's lack of concept of timeliness when it took over an hour to get our meal. That little setback was soon entirely unimportant as we received our favorite Indian dishes; Chipatti, Chicken Masala, Vegetable Curry, and rice. Yummm. I went back to the room before Kelsey and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I casually glance up to my right and about 5 inches from my face is yet another HUGE spider. Now I can handle bugs as well as the next girl but huge jumping spiders is just too much for me. Huge freaky spider number TWO was just as big but with shorter legs and a fatter, hairier body which only increased my hatred for him. I ran to Kathryn and Michelle's room trying to say spider with a mouthful of toothpaste. Mr. Spider catcher man came back again to save us. I tried to explain to him that our window wouldn't shut and that's probably how the spider got in but he kept repeating, "yes, window shut, yes." After repeatedly telling and showing him that the huge electric cable coming in through the window was not allowing it to shut, I finally gave up. At this point I was so grossed out and tired irritated I just crawled under our net and passed out.

Kolkata

July 2nd: So on the train before we arrived I asked my friend JP about something I had read in the newspaper back at the hotel. The article talked about a communist group outside Kolkata called the Maoists who were recently caught smuggling guns and ammunition and last week had robbed a sleeper train right outside Kolkata. I asked JP if we needed to worry and all he said was, "You pray and I'll pray and we'll be fine." Well our prayers worked as we have now arrived safely in Kolkata, free of Maoist attack :)

In comparison to Varanassi, Kolkata is relatively new as it was formed in 1690 by the British East India Company. The city even has this strange colonial architecture still. It almost feels like we stepped out of India for awhile and are actually somewhere in Europe. There are hardly any bikes or motorcycles, all the rickshaws are pulled by people running, not by bikes or auto! There are way more cars and the taxis are actually real taxis but they're very old fashioned. There is even an underground subway, trolley, and bus system. The roads have painted white lines and there aren't any cows in the street. We did see what looked like a community park with goats and horses and a tractor though. There are fences here and fancy bridges and lots of British architecture.

After independence from Britain, refugees swarmed into Kolkata. Hindu immigrants from newly Muslim East Pakistan, refugees from the Indo-Pakistan war of 1965 and the Pakistan-Bangladesh war of 1972 all attributed to Kolkatas growing population. Today there are over 11 million people in the city's 40 square miles.

You would think that in a newer city with more modern buildings, transportation, and landscaping there would be less poverty but on further exploration of the city we found just as much if not more poverty than in Varanassi. We spent the day visiting a Victorian monument dedicated to Queen Elizabeth when she visited Kolkata.

In the afternoon we visited the street where are the sculptors' warehouses were. We visited their studios and learned that they were already preparing statues for a big celebration in October! They were mostly Hindu God sculptures. They're first made with different amounts of bunches of hay tied together with string. Next they are covered with dark mud taken from the Holy Ganga. Once they dry they are painted and used for the celebration. Afterward all the statues are thrown back into the river as some sort of religious recycling...though as nurses we can't help but assume they paint the statues with lead-based paint only futher polluting the river.

Next we went to Mother Teresa's home and orphanage. Her home was a bedroom inside a convent which is still used today to house over 200 nuns. Her bedroom is still intact they way she left it. She kept has a crown of thorns above her bed that she made from sticks she found on a visit through the Nevada desert. She never even had a fan in her bedroom despite the EXTREME heat. The night she died there was a power outage (not uncommon as you know) and her oxygen tank failed so she simply ran out of breath.

A small museum is located on the convent next to her tomb. The museum had probably 20 posters with her whole life story printed on them. I felt so inspired at what a confident and strong willed woman she was. I wish they had a book somewhere with the exact same story because it was so beautifully told and supplemented with a lot of her direct quotes about what went on during different times in her life. It was so inspiring to see how she dedicated her life to God and the less fortunate and was so sure that was her calling. She even said she knew at age 12 that she would spend her life helping others and by age 18 made the sure decision to leave home forever to become a nun. One of her quotes says:
"My blood and origin I am all Albanian. My citizenship is Indian. I am a Catholic nun. As to my calling, I belong to the whole world. As to my heart, I belong entirely to the heart of Jesus."

Next we went to The Mother Teresa Orphanage. It looked much more like a preschool or daycare than an orphanage because all the children were very very young and they all used cribs. There were rooms just lined and lined with probably a hundred cribs. The nuns let us play with the little kids in each room. So many of them looked as if they might have some genetic anomalies or other illnesses but they jumped and played all over us and reached up their little arms for us to hold them just like little healthy children would do. It was so much fun but also really sad to see how many of the abandoned children were girls compared to boys. I read a really disturbing article in the Indian newspaper about how Indian women are so pressured to have male children that if they have a girl they will just leave it in a dumpster or a trashcan. One woman was not married and had her baby in a toilet and left it there. The stories get sadder and more gruesome, but the article went on to say that much of the reasoning behind the abandonment is unrecognized postpartum depression related to scrutiny from in-laws and husbands. So I suppose it is a very good thing that women can bring their unwanted children to Mother Teresa's orphanage.

After visiting the orphanage we had the rest of the evening free for shopping. As Kathryn and I have had quite enough of trying to shop with a group of 10 girls we went off on our own for awhile then went back to the hotel for dinner. At dinner we met two older Indian businessmen who ran a tea company. One manufactured tea and the other exported it. They laughed at us when we said how yummy the tea on the train was because apparently that's the lowest quality tea in all of India. We were having a nice conversation explaining why we were in India and how our trip had been. After while they started to give us a true cultural explanation of what this Indian arranged marriage is all about. Apparently things are much different in the north than the south. The south is much more conservative and traditional. In the north, teens are free to date as they wish until their arranged marriage, though it is more culturally acceptable for men to have premarital sex than it is for women...which doesn't really make sense since it requires both parties but, whatever. They both expressed that they are happy with their marriages and glad their parents chose for them. They even said their wives pretty much run the show in their households. They are told what to wear and when to be home and what to do. They said it's not like our nursing instructors in Coimbatore who have to give their paychecks to their husbands. Later in the evening we got into an argument about infidelity. One of the men was explaining to me that if he met his ex-girlfriend again that he would have no qualms about sleeping with her. He even went as far as to say that all men are like that and it is normal. He said the majority of men are universal in the way that they'll all cheat on their wives and girlfriends when they're not around. Needless to say I was in great disagreement but we got into a friendly debate about it and agreed to disagree. At about 10:15 both men got phone calls and walked away from the table. When they came back they were rushed to leave and thanked us for talking to them. We assumed their wives must have called and whipped them into shape, thank goodness, somebody's got to. Before leaving they both made it a point to express that we were the first genuinely nice and honest Americans they had met. Their perspective of American tourists is that they're all rude, think they're entitled to anything and everything and they definitely don't waste any time talking with Indians let alone trying to learn about their culture. We thanked them for their refreshing (somewhat) honesty about Indian culture and they were on their way. It seems even more clear to me now that Indian arranged marriages are not for love at all. They are to gain social status or gain money or obtain a certain hierarchy. Getting married here is just about procreating (hopefully a male) and then making sure your children are successful and procreate too. Love isn't a requirement. Soul mates aren't real. Nobody seems to mind.

On that note, were off to bed for tomorrow we have a flight from Kolkata to Mumbai, a 4 hour layover, flight from Mumbai to Kochin, and then a 2 hour drive to our hotel in jungle of Kerala. More tomorrow!

Victorian Palace

A sculptor

Mother Teresa's tomb

Sunrise on the Ganga River...not as beautiful as it sounds.

July 1st, Day 6 of our Journey through India: As we walk down the concrete steps toward the bank of the Ganges River, there are people sleeping everywhere, men in white with dyed orange hair sit praying to the river already at 4 in the morning. It is a foggy, dusky morning and the air is stale and hot. A little baby is sleeping on a step with his body on a blanket but his little head is lying right on the concrete. A girl sells us floating candles with flowers for 10 rupees each and we get into our boat. Picture murky, stagnant, green water with a thin layer of iridescent pollution film lying on top of it. As the sun begins to rise you can just barely see a faint orange circle through the thick gray curtain of foggy sky.

Our boatman rows downriver (although the water isn't moving so I suppose it could have been upriver too) and we start to see all the people swimming. Some are bathing near the bank, some are swimming across, others wash their clothes by beating them against the rocks. Above the banks are little shelters and platforms, then higher up are castle-like forts. Everything is painted so many different colors but the colors are muted and peeling away to show the underlying wood and bricks and mortar.

Just a little ways farther past the bathers and swimmers are the funeral pyres. We see 2 different pyres which look like regular campfires from far away, but up close we can see that they are carefully stacked wood poles with a body on top wrapped in a sheer white cloth. Atop the body is more wood poles in a line from head to foot. The family members of the deceased are all men, dressed in white with shaved heads and no facial hair. Our guide tells us that it is believed that women are too pure of heart to witness the ceremony, so only men participate. Before placing the body on the wood pile they bathe it in the river. They then place it on top and walk around it 5 times. Next they uncover the head of the deceased and light a fire in the center of the wood structure with a palm leaf. It was so hard to fathom that people believe the river is so holy that bathing next to dead bodies could be cleansing. After watching the funeral service we turned the boat around. About halfway back someone spotted a dead body floating face down on the bank of the river and not 50 yards away were children and men swimming and bathing.

Seeing the holiest river in India wasn't quite the moving spiritual experience I had anticipated. Instead I feel kind of like there's a huge pit in the bottom of my throat. We exited our boat in the middle of a bunch of naked men bathing and they didn't seem to mind at all, they just kept on. We walked up to the sidewalk and were immediately harassed by people selling illegal photographs of the funeral pyres and knick knack souvenirs. I've finally figured out if you offer a firm 'please stop' instead of 'no' or 'maybe' they tend to leave you alone. The walk back to the bus was through these terribly narrow market streets overrun by cows and people cooking and dogs fighting and dead rats. Strange fluids were being thrown from the top of buildings down onto our street, animal dung was everywhere, people were sleeping in the road, and with all of that the hot sticky air was kind of trapped in without any breeze whatsoever. There were a surprising number of guards with guns and our guide explained that there is a lot of tension between the Muslims and Hindus, especially near the solid gold temple located right near all these market streets.

Finally we got to the main street again and headed back to town for an afternoon of more temple tours and shopping. Around 4:30 we boarded our train for Kolkata. We were a little worried at first since the train had no sheets or curtain or pillows but the sheets and pillows came eventually and the lack of curtain ended up yielding a great opportunity for conversation with an Indian student from Kolkata. He had been visiting Varanassi and was backpacking. He had just graduated with a degree in economics and was taking a year off to choose his path in life. After we got to know each other a little better we started describing to him our morbid experience on the Ganges that morning. We talked about it at great length and he helped us to realize a lot of things. Varanassi is the oldest city in India, it is as old as Babylon and therefore it is so deeply rooted in tradition and religion that even government, let alone environmentalists cannot change the way people are with the river. The Ganga is absolutely sacred to the Hindus. Even a few drops of its water is considered purifying because they believe the water is the goddess Ganga flowing eternally from Mount Meru, the house of all gods. When they bathe in the water they absolutely know and believe that they are cleansing themselves of the 'karma' of previous and future lives. This prepares them not only for death but for rebirth afterward as well.

After talking to our new friend JP (don't worry, we exchanged facebooks) I decided that even if I cannot understand how a person can be so unconcerned with the sanitation of the river, what I can understand and appreciate is a faith so strong that what is practical and sensible can be overruled by what is spiritual and holy. When America became a country this city had been practicing their ceremonies for over 2,000 years. And I wonder why I find it difficult to compare Indian and American cultures when people ask me. I try to explain that in terms of developing a culture, India has had a bit more time than America.

Well, about to arrive in Kolkata. JP says we should expect it to be mildly cooler, drastically dirtier, and full of Communists. Haha. Here we go again!

Falling asleep in Agra and Waking up in Varanassi! We survived our first sleeper train!

So after being awake for over 19 hours we finally arrived at the train station. Immediately upon pulling into the restaurant people started running toward our bus with bracelets and postcards to sell and more little kids with open arms and hungry faces came too. We were completely surrounded, little hands tapping us, other men screaming prices at us and half feeling so sad for them and half staying on guard and being scared we were going to get mugged. As we walked toward the station people were laying on the ground sleeping everywhere. They were lying in the streets with the muddy puddles and garbage. Once inside the station families and people were everywhere laying on mats and sharing food, women were carrying big packages on their heads, and the stench was nearly unbearable. It smelled like every possible terrible smell you could imagine, I don't feel the need to describe it to you. It would come in waves with the breeze and just hit you in the face with its stench. While waiting for our train I looked over across the platform at a different train and saw a section with 6 beds similar to what Kathryn had told me our train would look like. It was incredibly dirty and the beds were basically tiny hard metal benches...oh my, what have I gotten myself in to?

When we finally got on the train after standing on the platform with our heavy backpacks we were so ready to sit down we hardly cared what it looked like. Luckily it looked better than we imagined. But don't get the wrong idea, it was still filthy. We took some wet wipes to our lightly padded beds (thank God since it was a 13 hour train ride) and they only came back a little bit dirty. Kathryn had what looked like a half eaten taco in her bed, but the rest were okay. We discussed if one of us should be awake at all times for safety but decided that was a bit over the top. Instead we decided we should keep our luggage in our beds and leave the light on so people would think we were awake and not try to steal our stuff. We set up our beds which were 2 sets of triple bunks about 3 feet apart from each other and with a narrow aisle down the middle. A thick curtain (that didn't shut all the way) separated our "berth" from the train’s walkway and the other berths. Before setting up our beds we debated thoroughly over which bed would be most auspicious. The top bunk had the most space for sitting up if need be, but the fumes were definitely rising and unbearable especially when driving through other train stations. The middle bunk seemed the safest because you were shielded between two other people. But the bottom you could get up to pee with ease whenever you want and it would most likely stay cooler. I opted for the bottom bunk (as I'm sure Baby Katy would have too) which turned out perfect because there was space under my bed for my pack. Since I have an unnaturally long body for a female I barely fit in the bed with my toes hanging off juuuust a smidge, no way would I have been able to keep my backpack in bed with me. (Don't worry mom, I slept with my purse.)

Knowing my capacity for crankiness on little sleep, I popped a Benadryl and a melatonin and didn't wake up for 10 hours :) perfect. Everyone else was complaining they were up all night with the babies crying and uncomfortable beds, but with my hunter orange Winchester ear plugs and my eye mask, I slept like a rock. A couple hours later we arrived in Varanassi. We almost had a little premature departure onto the train tracks when we thought we had passed the station but a nice Indian man laughed at us and said we were still a few minutes away.

So, to reorient you, today is Wednesday June 30th and we arrived in Varanassi around 12:30 in the afternoon...right in the heat of the day. Aside from the heat, Varanassi is much unlike any city in India we've seen so far. The children come up right next to you and tug on your skirt or tap your arm making the saddest hungriest little faces, then they bang on your bus windows as you drive away. Also a lot more of them are running naked. There are WAY less cars and WAY more motorcycles, auto rickshaws, and bicycle rickshaws. They display goat heads still bleeding on top of their food carts like they’re apples or something. They hang entire goat bodies skinned and gutted from the tops of their carts...yes that means they're out in the open without refrigeration. The cows are the epitome of "free range" in that we even saw one inside a saree shop today. There are a lot more pigs around here and people peeing anywhere and everywhere. Though there's still way more men out than women, we see more and more women out alone or with each other without men. Lastly, there are a lot more Muslims here. We know this because the women wear black burkas covering their faces and bodies.

We spent the afternoon and evening today visiting a number of Buddhist temples because Varanassi is home to the area called Sarnath which was the first preaching place of Buddha. I don't know why but Buddhism just doesn't interest me as much as Hinduism so it was difficult to pay much attention, plus a lot of the temples were remade due to vandalism or enemy destruction so they were relatively new. It was hard to appreciate them after seeing that temple on the way to Ooty.

After visiting the temples we were told we would witness a special ceremony on the Ganges (pronounced Ganga here) at sundown. It wouldn't be possible to take our bus so we rode 2 to a bike rickshaw through the crowded market streets of Varanassi. It was suuuch a great experience. It’s so hard to actually see people and places from a bus window, but riding in a rickshaw out in the open you can see everything. And you never feel bad for staring at people because man oh man are they staring right back at us. The streets were soooo overcrowded eventually we had to get off and walk the rest of the way. It was still fairly light out so we could find our way without losing anybody but it was still quite the experience navigating through people and cows and trying not to step in anything disgusting.

Once we arrived at the Ganges people had already started gathering for the evening prayer. Now what I thought was just going to be a group prayer song like what the nursing students in the hostel sang turned out to be an hour long production of music and song and dance and prayer.

We were told that the ceremony and prayer were meant to clean the water of the Ganges for future generations. I had to assume they meant a spiritual cleanliness because a lot more than dancing and song would be needed to clean that river. Along the river bank were lots of long skinny boats full of people. They had placed candles on the water around them. On the "boardwalk" (for lack of a better term) were 7 large platforms with little altars covered in orange silk with plants on either side. Above each platform were 2 orange flags, green and orange umbrella like lights, and pink flagged archways with bells attached. Once the sun was down 7 male dancers came out in light pink tops with an off-white/gold sash and pants. The crowd was seated right up next to the platforms and standing around in rows beyond that.

First a song came on over the loud speakers and the crowd and dancers were clapping along. Next was a faster song with faster claps. Then the ceremony began. Each dancer had one of those huge shells where you blow into the top and it makes a horn-like sound. They blew into their horns with as much breath as they could muster and the crowd cheered the longer they went on. The dancing was next with a series of hand dances and movements with objects. The entire time the bells on the arch ways were ringing, the dancers each held a bell to ring, and there was a drummer and cymbal player keeping the beat for the dancers. The objects included burning incense, smoking golden cups, flower petals, and large burning metal cups with a fan-like metal piece shielding the flame from the dancers’ faces. The dancers used each object, one at a time in a circle motion, sometimes standing, sometimes kneeling, and sometimes alternating directions to face the sides of the river or the crowd. The ceremony ended with the dancers sprinkling water on their platform, throwing a huge handful of flower petals into the air, then dancing more with an orange cloth then a grass fan. They threw more rose petals then knelt to pray and concluded with blowing the shells again. It was such a beautiful ceremony and everyone watching seemed so moved by it.


Afterward we walked back to where the bike rickshaws picked us up. If we thought walking there was hectic...walking back was like a scene from a movie where it’s so crowded one of the girls gets abducted and nobody notices...plus at one point the power went out and only the stores with backup generators were lighting the streets. Around 9pm we finally made it back to the hotel, ate dinner and hit the sack...only to set our alarms for 3:30 am for our sunrise boat tour on the Ganges...oh my it’s going to be another long day tomorrow as we board our second sleeper train at 4 in the afternoon. Oh, to have naptime again.