November 6, 2004 --- continued
Leaving for the train station, we wondered exactly what was in store for us. We had reservations on the first class sleeper train for the overnight ride to Varanasi, a trip that was supposed to take 12 hours. Tom's only personal frame of reference was the second class sleeper train that he rode more than 15 years ago from Varanasi to Delhi. It turned out to be a ride to remember. The sleeping accommodations were a narrow wooden bench that he had to vacate at 6 in the morning and where he had to hold on to his luggage as he slept. The train was 12 hours late due to a derailment. All in all, it was a pretty hairy ride. We knew that this would be better, but we didn't know how much better.First we had to get to the train station to board the train, an adventure in itself. As we approached the station we suddenly were accosted by porters who told our driver that he could not park at the station and must park in a empty lot a block or so away. There seemed to be some sort of construction (invisible to us) that precluded the van from getting anywhere near the station. We wondered if it was some kind of strike, but we would never know for certain. After some heated discussion and negotiations with the red-shirt clad porters and some money changing hands, the porters hefted our luggage on top of coiled towels they had placed on their heads. Naresh and Ajit told us to follow them. Weaving through a packed crowd, into the station, up one set of stairs and down another, while trying unsuccessfully to keep an eye on our luggage, we finally reached the platform. We were met by Mr. Lawania who checked our tickets, told us where to stand, reiterated our compartment location and made certain we were safely boarded. Meanwhile the experience of being at the train station was mind boggling. We watched people packing into trains that were so jammed it didn't seem possible for those hanging onto the side and spilling out the exits to get inside. However, as the trains left the station, sure enough, with a final crush people pulled them even more tightly into the train. It seemed like an impossible feat. These were local trains and second class sleepers that we were observing.
Three days later we read in the paper that there had been a stampede that killed 5 people and injured at least eight at the same station in Delhi, when people were trying to get on local trains to take them home for the holiday of Diwali. We could easily see how that could happen, just from our brief experience waiting for our train.
When we boarded we discovered that our luggage was already stowed and we found the porters there to collect tips -- the beginning of becoming more and more confused about tipping. What was enough? What was too much? Hadn't they already been paid? We had read the guide books and asked experienced travelers but still got many different messages throughout the trip.
Surprisingly, our train left on time. Our sleeping compartment appeared satisfactory, not first class by standards elsewhere, but definitely first class by the mayhem we had just witnessed. We checked to find the closest western style bathroom, noticed that there were chains to secure our luggage so it wouldn't be stolen, and prepared to settle in. We were a little bit disappointed that we would be traveling at night and wouldn't be able to see much of the countryside, but looked upon the whole experience as an adventure to be savored.
On Marie's first trip to the bathroom she was hit soundly across the breast by a hand that came out of a compartment as she passed by. It was accompanied by "Sorry" but it didn't seem like an accident. Later Carolyn had a similar experience. After that we guarded our body parts as we walked down the aisle on our way to and from the toilet --- facilities that really weren't too bad.
We settled in for the night, two of us on the narrow top bunks and two on the bottom, facing each other in the same compartment and fitfully slept, anticipating our arrival in Varanasi, the spiritual home of Hindus for more than 3000 years.
Early in the morning we passed many villages and watched people going about their early morning routines, including walking out into the fields for their bathroom needs. There was no sign of electricity in most of the villages and it looked as if people used a common pump for water. We later were to learn that there are more than 500,000 villages similar to these in the country.The train seemed to stop for no reason, at least no reason known to us, on several occasions and we were curious about what was going on. At one point we were stopped in a small village where it looked as if people were waiting for a local train. Suddenly everyone left the area to go look at something that was in front of our train. We couldn't see what was going on. A couple of people from our train left to check things out and at least one left the train to walk to the village, presumably to take care of toilet needs, and then returned --- all of this during what we think was a long unscheduled stop.
November 7, 2004 Finally we arrived in Varanasi early in the morning, several hours behind schedule. We were met at the station by our guide for the next couple of days, Mr. Singh, and taken to Hotel Clarks Varanasi. We had a little time to freshen up and eat before our afternoon tour of Varanasi. The city tour was to include a visit to a Hindu temple dedicated to Hanuman, the monkey god. Tom had informed us that the temple and the neighborhood teemed with monkeys and that we should hang onto your cameras and purses! However when he asked our guide about the city tour, he seemed reluctant to take us there and said that the monkeys had created a nuisance and were no longer present. He said no one knew what had become of them. After discussion and confusion it appeared clear that we were not going to get a city tour per se and would not travel to Sarnath until the next day.We also discovered that the shops in our hotel had excellent merchandise at reasonable prices that we might not find in other places on our trip.
Instead we would spend the day visiting textile, craft and carpet stores and factories. We were not too disappointed since we wanted to look for a carpet and we had been informed by various people that Varanasi is the silk capital of the country and the best place to make those kinds of purchases. We didn't want this trip to turn into a continuous shopping trip, (in spite of our various guides' intentions to make that happen so that they could earn a commission from everything we bought!), but we were willing to go along with that plan for just this one day.
First view of Varanasi and the road to the Ganges
Above is the view of our first night in Varanasi as we threaded our way through traffic en route to the Holy Ganges to be taken to a nightly ritual at the river. Intense congestion... indescribable... so much for the senses... too much to take in... Walking into the crowds and down the wet steps to the river was an adventure in itself. Keeping from being crushed in the crowd, dodging droppings from sacred cows on the steps, carefully watching our steps in order not to stumble, all added to the intensity of the moment.
Night ceremony at the Ganges
We were told that the ceremony we were about to witness has been going on for ages and is a sacred ritual of putting the gods to sleep every night. We had not heard about it before, nor had we read about it in any of the guide books, so we weren't certain whether or not it was something concocted for tourists. The shoreline was packed with boats, mostly filled with tourists, but some seemed to be domestic tourists and we watched the ceremony from the river with each part described by our guide as he sang along with the chanting.
A young girl joined us on the boat and sold each of us candles to float in the river after each made a wish (for all mankind -- not a selfish wish). We later learned that Mr. Singh had discovered the young girl begging 3 years ago and had bought her candles to sell. He has mentored her every since. He has encouraged her and her family as she and her siblings began attending school. Now both of them are proud of how well she is doing in school. Going from being a beggar to being a student is no mean feat in this culture where people are usually stuck in whatever role and station their lives dictate.
She joined us on our boat again the next morning.
Early next morning:
November 8, 2004
Early in the morning we took a boat ride on the holy Ganges River to see ritual bathing by the faithful, meditating yogis, professional launderers, temples sinking into the river, cremation sites and to watch the sun rising.
The boats that carry people up and down the river are rowed by men who are descended from the families that belonged to a caste of rowers. Rowing the heavy wooden boats and their load of tourists is difficult work, but it is probably a fairly lucrative business for these men. Being rowed up the river and then drifting down, allowed us to get a close up view of all of the activities along the ghats.
Just up river from where these people were washing clothes we saw the first of several cremation sites.
The goal of devout Hindus is to have their ashes cast into the holy Ganges at Varanasi. Many believers travel to the city to die and to be cremated. Their ashes merge with the water of the river which, in turn, merges with the waters of the oceans. This symbolizes the union of the individual soul with the Great Soul.
We were rowed to a spot very close to where the cremations were taking place, at a rate of 145 per day, 24 hours a day. We were told that no photographs were allowed, but even without that warning we would not have been tempted to take pictures. Our guide kept having the oarsmen row nearer and nearer. We were much too close for our comfort. In our mind's eye we can still see the exposed faces of the bodies, laying on their litters, waiting to be cremated and the flames as bodies burned. We did not want to intrude in this very personal, very private ritual. We turned away while the boat moved even closer.
Later, Tom asked our guide about the fate of an electric crematorium that had been built by the government about 15 years ago. The purpose was to provide a cheap alternative to the traditional cremation which, at the time, cost several hundred dollars. He said it was not doing well. The reason being that they cremated a number of bodies at one time and the ashes were intermingled. Not knowing whose ashes they were receiving, people were opting for the traditional and more expensive ritual.
After returning to our hotel for breakfast, we got ready for our afternoon visit to Sarnath
Sarnath, a sacred city to Buddhists, is the site of the first major sermon of Siddhartha Gautama after he received enlightenment and became a Buddha ("one who has awakened") in 528 B.C. He and a few disciples settled here and the Buddha taught his message. Eventually, a wealthy patron provided the money to build the first monastery. Today the ruins cover a large area and give testimony to the rapid rise and eventual decline of Buddhism in India. While the religion remains very influential across much of Asia, it has little presence in India where it comprises less than two percent of the population.
A large stupa dominates the area. A stupa is a structure that contains relics from the Buddha. After his death and cremation, the ashes were divided into 8 parts and later deposited in stupas in Asia. Now there are many stupas, including one in our Japanese home city of Kofu, which purports to contain a Buddha relic.
We were pleased that Mr. Singh accepted our invitation for he and his wife and daughter to have dinner with us that evening at the Kamas Hut, a restaurant the Mr. Singh had recommended to us the night before. We had wanted to eat in a place where he might eat and not a place for tourists. The night before we had a choice of sitting inside or outside and we chose to sit inside, only to discover that we had made the wrong choice. The inside had a bar. We were the only women in the room and it was inappropriate to be in a place where there was a bar! In spite of our faux pas, we had an excellent meal, great service, and a nice cultural experience, all at a good price. We were delighted to return there for the following evening. And we were looking forward to getting to know our guide and his family on a more personal level.
Mr. Singh has a Ph.D. in archaeology. He had been a college professor who now can earn more money and have more job security as a guide than teaching at a university. It was one of many times that we were reminded of the difficulty of trying to get ahead in India; sometimes because you are born to a particular station in society and, additionally, in Mr. Singh's case, because there are so many educated people competing for the same job.
November
9, 2004
Flight to Khajuraho
Check in Hotel Clarks Khajuraho
KHAJURAHO
Khajuraho was not on our original itinerary even though it is one of the most popular tourist sites in India. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Originally consisting of 85 temples, built between 950 to 1050 A.D., it is best known for its erotica carved in the 22 remaining buildings on the site. It was not high on our list of places to go. However, after arriving in Delhi and going over our itinerary with Mr. Lawania, it was decided that we would skip a second overnight train, and go by land, air and a shorter train ride to Agra. Khajuraho was on the way!
Arriving at the site, we were greeted by small boys hawking pornographic action toys, pushing them in front of our faces to get our attention. Hard to ignore...
Our guide informed us that the carvings were sensual and erotic and not pornographic. He said that sex is never sinful in Hinduism and that a Hindu temple is not considered sacred without erotic art. The temples are designed to be in the shape of the Himalayas and to take one's mind and eye toward heaven. The erotic carvings only comprise a small portion of the magnificent architecture. However, our guide's focus was on the details of the sex acts depicted in the carvings. He was very enthusiastic about describing, in detailed and prurient terms, each of the scenes (even those that demonstrated bestiality). We grew tired of his lengthy descriptions and decided to explore this site on our own.
The buildings and intricate carvings are amazing in their detail and we suppose we are glad that we did go there to see this place that is touted in guide books. And, after all, is a UNESCO Site.
You can get an idea of the size of this tower by looking the people toward the bottom of the picture.
A closer look at some of the carvings, avoiding the more graphic scenes.
What we enjoyed the most was strolling around the grounds in open space, with only a few other tourists, and watching the sun go down behind the massive structures. It was a joy to have some space around us after the intense, packed crowds in the first few days of our journey.
November 10, 2004
Morning after breakfast drive to Jhansi, en route visiting Orchha.
When Mr. Lawania suggested revising our original itinerary and mentioned visiting Orchha, Tom was skeptical. He thought it might just be a stop inserted to justify the changes. How wrong he was! This unpolished gem deserves more than the few hours we had to explore.
And our guide, Anit, with
his great sense of humor and appreciation of this treasure certainly helped to make the
visit even more memorable.
After a pleasant lunch at the Orchha Resort restaurant we walked to a small temple complex. Here there either was or wasn't an admission charge. It depended on whether or not you believed the man at the entrance. We didn't.
As we entered the temple grounds this stocking capped "holy man" greeted us by singing and accompanying himself on a traditional instrument.
Following the temple visit, we planned to walk to an overlook to observe people carry out their daily routine of visiting and doing laundry at the river's edge. However, as we approached, it was clear from the people's reaction to seeing us that we were not welcomed. We left and continued back up the road to be rewarded with the view of the imposing palace you see below.
Little had been done to restore the palace complex. Maybe that added to its appeal.
Anit said that the government had appropriated funds to improve the area, but so far, all that they have done is put up signs.
Orchha was a capital city for over two hundred years. The landscape features impressive memorials to the many kings who ruled the region. It was founded in 1531 and retains much of its medieval atmosphere. A small city and relatively untouched by tourism, it is a good place to walk around and soak in the atmosphere.
One palace chamber contained two of these unusual drawings. It may be difficult to see but the elephant is comprised of twelve female figures.
Next we were to board the Shatabodi Express train for Agra. What a harrowing experience...
We were accompanied to the station and when our porters took our luggage we were told to follow them and not pay them until we boarded the train. However, when we arrived at the proper platform it became apparent that our train was going to be quite late. We didn't want to have the porters stand there for a long time with us and so Tom gave them the tip and we waited and waited. We weren't certain what was going on, which train would be the right one and how late it was going to be. As a train approached our "helper" appeared again and told us it was not the right train and we should wait. He also chewed Tom out for paying the porters and said now they would disappear. The station became more and more crowded. We became more and more confused, we discovered the horrible conditions of the toilet facilities at the station, Tom had his shoes shined by the cute little boy for a nominal fee, and finally our train appeared, as did our porters. They did not let us down.
All this made us arrive in Agra a couple of hours late.
And then on to AGRA
