DROPPING THE EAST IN SOUTHEAST ASIA
We said goodbye to Thailand from Bangkok, a city we came to appreciate more deeply having spent 10 days there waiting for visas. We toured there mostly on foot, taking the occasional taxi and metro ride. Where we were staying near Khao San road wasn't well connected with the metro though so we spent most of our time putsing around that area. From what I heard, most people write off as this area of Bangkok as a one day visit, too touristy and debaucherous to bother spending much time in, but I actually found it had a lot to offer if you could just look past the noisy souvenir hawkers and tuk tuk drivers making popping sounds with their mouths at you offering to chauffeur you to a ping pong show. We found a new, cozy Cafe almost every day to escape from the heat and noise, and in between were never want for new delicious thai street food to sample, or temples and colourful back alleys to explore. We had a fantastic 5 year anniversary day there, spent leisurely walking around Bangkok's Dusit zoo, having our China-instilled prejudices against asian zoos changed as we marvelled at the calm, clean environment in and outside of the animal enclosures. (This stems from our trip to the Shanghai Zoo and Aquarium. See earlier post for a description of the depressing environs within them.) We closed out the day with sunset drinks at a rooftop, riverside bar overlooking the biggest temple in Bangkok, Wat Arun, and then went for dinner, for a third time, to our favourite restaurant in Thailand named Hemlock. It serves authentic Thai food in a clean, quiet, white-table cloth and mood-lighting atmosphere which would normally indicate higher prices, but most items on their (huge) menu were on par with the plastic stool spots next door to them. What I liked best was that the dishes they prepared were really authentically thai, some were even labeled as ancient on the menu and the ones we tried were astonishingly delicious and different from any other Thai dish we'd ever seen offered or tried anywhere else, even after three weeks traveling around the country. If you ever go to Bangkok, look them up. Oh, and some more proof that the world is getting smaller every day: I ran into my best friend's uncle in a Japanese/french bakery near Khao San road. Yep, I was pretty stunned to catch Cool Uncle Richard eating a banana danish a table away from me that morning - as much as he was to see me, since we've met a handful of times in Edmonton but only ever through my friend, and at that particular moment she was either in Paris or Rome, so obviously wasn't around to facilitate this time. Coo-coo.
INCREDIBLE INDIA
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| Cricket in the park in Calcutta |
On March 1st, we landed in Kolkata (or Calcutta, as it's still commonly referred to) for a ten hour layover before reaching Destination Delhi. We had a weird start because we hopped in a cab at 7:00am on a Sunday, and by the time the taxi dropped us near what he told us was College Street there was just a handful of people on the street, standing bleary-eyed in front of the dozens of closed up shops. I was reminded of our late night arrival in Shanghai on the eve of Chinese New Year last year. There we were, thrown into the rickety backseat of a grumbling yellow cab that looked to be from 60s Britain as it races into the maze of central Calcutta, bracing ourselves not just for the many bumps and potholes in the road, but also for the hoards of noisy people, cars, and cattle that indian streets are famous for. But instead, we looked up to find nothing but empty streets, shambled by accumulated piles of strewn trash, and shuttered store-fronts. Apparently we showed up on the only morning of the week when the streets are quiet at that time, as we found out later. We trudged along past college street, towards what we were hoping would lead to a place called Eden garden, but all we saw was a far cry from paradise. As more people emerged into the street, we saw dozens of people standing in the gutter near public water pumps, bathing themselves in the street. We saw people urinating and defecating on the pavement. We walked past pungent heaps of aging trash, and sidestepped dozens of cow paddies and human paddies. I'll never forget the sight and smell coming from a dazed looking young man with matted dreadlocked hair, standing in the middle of an intersection, squinting at the horizon. He was shoeless, wearing a dusty black sweater and pants badly torn down the entire inseam so that you could see the entire length of his legs, inside thigh to ankle. On the fringes of his torn slacks and his legs was bits of what can only have been feces.
AN INTRODUCTION TO CALCUTTA, DELHI, AND THE MADDENING INDIAN RAILWAY
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| At the India Gate |
Luckily, we ran into some tourist-looking folk, who kindly informed us that we were in fact quite a bit further from the park than we had speculated, and invited us to follow them in the direction of the backpackers sanctuary we were wishing for but unsure of how to get to. They were a group of three, two men and a woman, all working in Calcutta in some capacity and well-acquainted with the area. They led us to an unassuming cafe where we were able to get some wifi and our first of many delicious Indian meals. The rest of the day we spent walking around the busy markets, set up against the backdrop of impressive British colonial era buildings. We watched several games of cricket simultaneously taking place in a big park, and then went for a beer and watched some of the cricket World Cup showing on a projector screen in a dark but airy pub with lofty ceilings, and dark wood tables and benches which, like our taxi cab, could also have very well been relics from the age of the British Viceroy in India. At 5:00 we boarded another plane, this time to Delhi, where we stayed for
two nights... or three, if you count the night we spent waiting for the train we thought might never leave. After a couple of days exploring the bazaars, landmarks, and the beautiful Indian art gallery, we booked a train to Mathura, our base for the upcoming Holi festival. It was to leave at 5:30pm originally, but when we arrived at the station, we discovered it was delayed until 10pm. Then, when we returned at ten, the departure time was pushed back even further to 12:30am. In the end, our inaugural ride on the Indian Railway system didn't end up taking off until 3:00am, finally bringing us to Mathura at 5:00am. With all the delays, we figured we probably could have cycled there faster than the time it took the train to do the same journey, but such is the nature of the Indian railway , we discovered. In exchange for the incredibly cheap tickets (ex a 10 hour journey in an economy class sleeper costs about $5 CND) one has to be willing to travel on an extremely loose schedule, or better yet, none at all.
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| The India Gate (a monument to fallen soldiers) from the rear |
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| An artful nod to India's ever-popular stainless steel cookery and tableware at the Delhi Art Gallery |
HOLI, HUH?
Those Holi days in Mathura were very interesting, to say the least. Holi, by the way, is the Hindu festival of colours, and is known around the world for the fantastic, playful
throwing of powdered colours and watery paints at any and every passersby in the streets. It is a celebration marking the beginning of spring in which everyone, no matter their race, religion, or caste, takes part in the festivities, greeting one another with a splash of color and a hug or hand shake. It's also marks the beginning of new year for many, and acts as justification to reset soured relationships and let go of old conflicts and resentments of the past. Mathura is one of Hinduism's seven sacred cities, and the supposed birthplace of the much-loved Hindu god Krishna. The legend associated with Lord Krishna connects to the Holi rituals because it's said that he started the tradition of playing with colours by covering his beloved goddess Radha, who then became his girl. In Southern india, Holi is observed in a more austere, religious fashion, and events are centred around the local temple where you'd see a lot of people burn a lot of incense and make offerings at shrines. In the North, festivities vary from town to town but are generally more lively, colourful and less sober. So on the spectrum for Holi festivities across India, Mathura's is said to be on the far end of the party side. The city is known for the sporting the wildest, wettest, busiest streets in all of India during this time, and for us they certainly lived up to this reputation.
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| No one is exempt from Holi activities in Mathura, not even the 'Holy' cows |
PRE-PARTY PROBLEMS
However, despite being a city of at least a million and an unofficial capital of Holi, the place doesn't actually have much going for it in terms of tourism, so it wasn't the carefree week of partying that we had anticipated. This was the first city (though it felt like a town) that we encountered since China where Wifi isn't a familiar word yet, many of the local taxi/rickshaw drivers didn't speak English, and actual showers as well as restaurants were hard to come by. So, when we arrived a couple of days before the event started, we were disappointed to find that our hotel, despite advertising things like hot showers and wifi, definitely lacked them as well as sealed windows to keep the mosquitos out at night... but unfortunately, so did all their competition (that we explored). Compounding our discontent, we had the problem of dealing with a booking(dot)com and hotel miscommunication due to our delayed check in. Apparently, the reservations manager at the hotel hadn't been notified of our delay and had informed booking(dot)com (who had my credit card info) that we were a No Show, and thus booking(dot)com would be charging me the full price of our reservation - 13 nights worth. Naturally we wanted this corrected, especially since we weren't keen on staying there for the full 13 nights anyways. But then we faced the difficulty of reaching out to booking(dot)com because, as I said, there was no wifi and the hotel manager did all his business on his phone's 3G, so was unable to help us. Frustrating. Eventually, after being turned down at numerous mobile phone retailers because we didn't have an Indian ID, we talked to the right shopkeeper who was able to get his friend to hook us up with 3G internet on Cameron's iPhone. And so, within a few days of email exchanges and discussions with the hotel we got things sorted out and were saved.
HOLY COWS, COLORS, AND DIRT ROAD DANCE PARTIES
Even though our our living situation wasn't ideal, we were still looking forward to experiencing Holi, so we spent a lot of time away from our room, getting ourselves oriented before the festival began on the 6th. Wandering down the dirt roads, we admired the heaps of coloured powders, dyes, and silly spray available on every street corner, gawked at the numerous monkeys that live in the trees and on the roofs of the brightly-coloured buildings, passed by 'holy' cows standing or laying down dumbly in the middle of the chaotic street, and met the intent stares of curious locals with smiles and a 'Happy Holi!'. We saw only a dozen or so other backpackers plus one tour bus-load of middle-aged Italians there during the 5 days we were in Mathura, and by talking to a couple of the backpackers, we were finally able to locate a good restaurant nearby their hotel and shared a huge, delicious Indian meal with them - all veg because Mathura's ascetic like that, so meat isn't on offer in most places. The night before Holi (called the 'Holika Dahan' or 'The Death of Holika') at about 11:00pm, we went out for a chai and saw a bonfire had been lit in the middle of an intersection, and people
were putting offerings of incense, rice, sweets, and spices into it. This is the opening ceremony of Holi, where every neighbourhood builds and lights its own bonfire. We joined the circle on onlookers and watched as people gave their offerings and said their prayers, and I noticed that the fire wasn't just burning wood, but also hundreds of dried cow patties. Thankfully the burning spices and wood were the dominant scent in the air so we didn't have any problem hanging around there for a while. After enjoying the radiating heat for a bit, we carried on walking to the chai vendor's, but then just as we rounded the corner nearest it, we stumbled upon a dance party in the middle of the street. A huge stack of big black speakers were occupying the centre, blasting boisterous Bollywood music as a group of about 15 young guys were bouncing and shaking their shoulders, arms rising and falling to the beat. Naturally, we were instantly spotted and the group rushed over to us, shouting and waving at us to come join. After briefly resisting, we let ourselves get pulled into the centre of the dance floor (I.e. The middle of the dirt road), and danced our pants off, periodically bursting out giggling at the hilarity of the scene and the crazy energy with which these guys were throwing down like they were Bollywood stars.
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| Local women prepare the bonfire for their neighbourhood's Holika Dahan, using cow dung patties and a wrapping of string. This one has an effigy of Holika in the centre, who according to the Bhagavat Purana, burned to death in place of her virtuous brother Prahlad, after her father tried to kill him for not worshipping him as a god. The fire symbolizes the triumph of good over evil. |
HOLI FRENZY
The next day was Holi and we hit the streets at about 10am. Almost instantly after exiting our hotel's front doors, we were bombarded by group after group of young guys coated in color, armed and ready with bags of powder or water guns full of dyed water to douse anyone who dared come within their range. People going by on automatic scooters would stop when they saw us to come over and gleefully mark us with either a streak in the middle of our foreheads or a playful splash of powder. As we were on our way out for the day, I had
been warned by some other foreigners whom we'd passed just as they were heading back in. They looked at me and said "Be ready for groping. Not all the guys out there are respectful." I'd already read this as a part of theonline advice for Holi that I'd looked up, so I wasn't shocked to hear this from a female tourist my age but it did unsettle me a bit nonetheless, especially since I noticed she was traveling with a male friend. It's said that women who go out on Holi with a male companion earlier in the morning would be less likely to be harassed by curious, drunk Indian men, whose hands would be more likely to wander the more hours they'd been out drinking and celebrating. I hoped I would be able to stay close enough to Cameron so that what happened to the other girl wouldn't happen to me, but as the day progressed, that turned out to be impossible. On every street there were new posses of mostly young boys and men, some more visibly drunk than others, all eager to 'play' Holi with us. We met with hundreds of people over the course of our first hour walking around Mathura, and 90% were happy and harmless, greeting Cameron and I with equally vigorous handshakes or hugs and sprays of color, forming two separate circles around us, jostling to get up close to wish us each a happy Holi and asking "What is your country??" I feel obligated to stress that this characterized the vast majority of our encounters that morning. But then there were times where I felt guys cupping my face with their hands a little longer than I liked, and few others who swiftly groped at my breasts and butt. I was never able to see the culprits themselves as they were in a swarm of at least ten all around me, and I had to pinch my eyes closed so that the powder they were smothering in my hair and face wouldn't get in. The same thing was happening to Cameron with the colours, so he couldn't see during these times either. As soon as I felt their pinches or wandering hands, I instinctively pushed them all away from me and shouted "No!" until I was free. Then I made sure Cameron knew the guys were creeps and we needed to get away from them.
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| Mission Holi Accomplished |
In the moments after I'd pushed away those brazen hands who had pinch my nipples, I was shaking with outrage and indignation at what had just happened to me, in the middle of the street in broad daylight and not two feet away from my boyfriend. I had never felt so violated like that before, and was very emotional. The warning from that morning was ringing in my ear and I felt stupid and shamed for not having heeded it, and for dumbly walking right into that group of guys, and letting myself get separated even an inch from Cameron. It had been too easy for the group to force us apart, so that they could get their feels in behind Cameron's back. As a result, he didn't fully understand what had happened in the moment that I yelled at him that I wanted to get away from these guys. And it was only when we'd walked a couple blocks away that I was able to communicate exactly what had happened. Naturally, he was shocked, upset (especially at seeing me so upset) and questioning, as was I, whether we should make a full stop and shut ourselves in at the hotel for the rest of the day. It was only 11 o'clock by this time, and neither of us wanted to let the incident ruin the day so we carried on. A few more groups approached us and I was studying their faces, staring into at all their eyes to see if they were drunk or not, and rejecting hugs so as to limit my contact with them to a dab on the forehead and maybe a handshake. Finally we made it to the temple of Krishna's birthplace, and fended off a few more wandering hands in the lineup before finding sanctuary inside. Things were much more quiet and subdued at the temple, and we enjoyed the colourful, ornate statues and designs, the translated Hindi scriptures, as well as the delicious snacks and sweet lassis for sale in the front courtyard. When we finished seeing the main temple and prayer hall, we relaxed in the garden for a while before wandering outside and catching a rickshaw back to our hotel.
BEIN' REAL - SKIP IF YOU'RE NOT INTO READING ABOUT MY FEELINGS N STUFF RIGHT NOW
I've been very careful as I write this because it's a pretty personal and sensitive story, difficult to describe to someone who wasn't there at the time to experience the environment and energy being felt in the moment. At first I wasn't sure if I should write about it at all, and debated whether I ought to gloss over it somehow so as not to alarm or invite judgment upon mine and Cameron's decision-making. But I've decided to tell you about it because it was a significant experience for me, and a very complex one at that. It was one of the most intense experiences of our trip I've had so far. Weeks later, I find I'm still processing it and reflecting on many aspects to it. Part of me wishes I'd kept my eyes open long enough to spot the creep who pinched me so I could punch him in the face, and watch the astonishment of the group at witnessing a woman strike back. At the very least I think I could have stood my ground and made more of a scene, instead of just shouting "No" and running. But I am proud of how both Cameron and I handled it, individually and as a couple. In the aftermath, we didn't allow difficult emotions to ruin our day, or boil into an argument about who was to blame. We showed ourselves to be an even-keeled team in what, for many couples, could have been a really destabilizing event. We've talked about it at length and strongly agree that we don't regret our decision to go ahead and play Holi the way we did that day. What happened was significant and unfortunate, but when examined against the vast cesspool of sexual harassment present in the world, and India in particular, I was fortunate that I only got a toe-dipping compared to what might have happened if, say, I had been alone. The experience also served as a brief introduction to what Indian women are faced with on the daily - as often as every time they ride a public bus, or dare not to ride in the 'women only' carriage in the Delhi metro. And when bad things happen to them, the men are given a slap on the wrist while it's often the woman who is blamed for putting herself in the situation in the first place. This might explain why, when walking down most city streets in India, it's only men or older women who work in the shops, run the street food stalls, and work in the hotels - because few can expect a young to middle-aged female employee will be safe enough to work alone, even in a public place. It's ridiculous that 50% of the population has to live with this reality from the moment they are born - and for some, until the day they die - no matter where they go in India. As tourists, it has a noticeable effect on our experience; even though we are quite far removed from the bleakest side of the injustice here, we both experience a palpable sense of treading in an odd, unhealthy, unbalanced environment when walking through a crowded neighbourhood with plenty of men working and young children milling about, but not seeing any women around... not to mention the slightly awkward and unwelcome feeling that arises when I recognize I'm the only female on the street... I could go on but I'll stop there, because there are a lot of good stories still to tell!
ON TO AGRA
When Holi was over, we decided we simply couldn't pass up an opportunity to see the Taj Mahal when it was only two hours away, so we hopped in a morning bus and made it to Agra
by lunchtime. Centuries ago, Agra used to be the seat of government, and then that marble-loving Shah Jahan built the Taj, so the place is kind of a big deal and a lot better equipped for tourists than its neighbour Mathura. We happily settled into a hostel before heading out to explore the area. Near the Taj Mahal we ogled at an amazing hotel called the Oberoi, which is a hotel chain akin to the likes of Fairmont in India and the Middle East. It felt like walking into the palace from the Disney movie Aladdin: beautiful fountains, arching latticework windows, cool marble floors, sky-high domed roofs, intricately painted with a royal blue and gold design on the inside... And that view. We
splurged on a drink out on the balcony so we could sit and continue to gawk at the palatial landscape, gorgeous terraced garden and outdoor pool with the Taj Mahal perched on the horizon. And their signature cocktail, the Mumtaz (gin, pomegranate, watermelon, basil and orange), was so amazing it was (almost) worth the $20 price tag.
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| Front entrance to the Oberoi Agra |
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| From inside the front lobby of the Oberoi, looking out to the terrace where we had a drink |
TIRED, BROKE AND HANGRY... CAN YOU SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING?
We nearly saw the Taj Mahal up close the next day with some friends we made at the hostel, but ran into a snag. It concerned our money. Cameron misplaced his debit card in Calcutta, and mine doesn't work in India so while we waited to get a new one sent to us, we were down to my credit card for cash flow. In Mathura I'd been able to withdraw, but as I found out later, that had set off a security alert with my credit card company and they put a block on my card. I tried to call and have this fixed but the wifi connection at the hostel wasn't good enough to support a Skype call so I would have been in a real pickle if it hadn't been for my wonderful Mom, who was able to call them and have it sorted out the next day. The 24 hours before my card got unblocked, was a bit of a mess though. We woke up at 5:00am to catch the sunrise over the Taj with our friends, but when we (unknowingly) went to get the cash we needed to buy tickets, the ATM rejected me.. actually all four ATMs rejected me, to be exact. Then, bewildered, tired, and stressed, as I leaned on a bench and kind of... passed out. Like a Victorian lady. It's kind of embarrassing but true. I wasn't sick, just a bit hungry maybe and that, combined with money stress at gruelling 5:30am, resulted in me collapsing into Cameron, who luckily came over to reassure me just in time to see the blood drain from my face and catch me before I tipped, face first, into the concrete. Apparently I was only out for about a minute, but it scared Cameron, who right away told our companions to go on ahead without us, and took me straight back to my bed at the hostel. I slept for a couple hours and woke up rested but feeling like shit because of our money problem, the fact that I fainted like a waif, and that we'd had to bail on the Taj Mahal with our friends. It also really sucked that the hostel was already fully booked for the night and we would have to go look for another cheap place to stay using the little cash we had left. But sweet, sweet, wonderful Cameron had been busy whilst I slept, and returned triumphantly, instructing me to pack up because he had already found a new place for us to stay. "Is it cheap?" I asked. "No, but don't worry about it. We'll be fine, just give me your bag. I'll take our stuff over there first, then come back to get you." I was sceptical, but things turned our more than okay. Turns out, it was decided that this justified as an occasion to use the emergency American Express card his parents gave him before we left, to book us into a nice hotel until we got my credit card issue resolved. (We'd already learned that the American Express didn't work in ATMs and all low-midrange hotels in India don't accept foreign credit cards, doh). That's how we ended up spending two blissful nights at the luxurious Radisson Blu Hotel in Agra, but couldn't afford the rickshaw fare to get there.
THE TAJ MAHAL
As I said, my Mom came to the rescue the following day and had my card unblocked so I could withdraw money again to buy tickets to see what we'd come to Agra for in the first place - the Taj. Like Mathura, it lived up to its reputation. I was blown away by the incredible craftsmanship in the intricate carvings that covered so much of its immense
surface area, and the impeccable symmetry within the whole palatial grounds. The fact that the place wasn't actually a palace at any point, but was built as and remains a tomb for the Empress Mumtaz Jahan, really impressed me; it's the most stunning monument to a dead lover in the world, whose tragic story tells of a rich emperor with several wives, whose favourite one of all dies while giving birth to their 14th child. Overcome by grief, and as a way to preserve her memory, he commissions the Taj Mahal. It takes more than 20 years and some 20,000 labourers to complete the marvel, and then, just a couple years after it's finished, the Emperor's son rises to power and imprisons his father behind the high walls of the Agra Fort, a few kilometres up the Yamuna River, until his death 6 years later. We also visited the Agra Fort later that same day, and it was just as incredible to explore.
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| The front Gate to the Fort |
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| Outside the Agra Fort |
ONWARD TO RISHIKESH
Our next destination, and the final one we'd actually planned before departure from China, was Rishikesh, tucked into the foothills of the Himalayas in northern India. Outside of India, Rishikesh is famous for two things - yoga and the Beatles. In the 1960s, the Fab Four came over here to stay in an ashram for what was initially just supposed to be a couple of weeks, but for John and George, it turned into well over a month, and a really productive period for the band - they wrote something like 20 songs which ended up being the bulk of their
famous White Album. From then on, Rishikesh has been an important stop on many foreign yogis and spiritual seekers' lists of must-see places in India, as well as an already nationally famous religious site thanks to the holy mother of all rivers, the Ganges (or Ganga as it's known around here) whose sacred, not-yet-polluted waters run down from the Himalayas through the city and south to other eastern parts of the country. Our journey there from Agra was 10 hours and luckily left on time, bringing us to Haridwar around 9:30pm, but we still had to wait until the following day to get a rickshaw to take us the last 45 minutes to get to our accommodation - Anand Prakash Yoga Ashram. For our night in Haridwar, we took a really cheap and dirty hotel... but that only made the next night (in a
hotel near the ashram, whose rooms were fully occupied) seem all the more heavenly. There was a large, properly sealed window, hot water, a/c and a nice, quiet ceiling fan, with a big, soft bed complete with clean sheets, and we only had to walk one minute up the road to get to the ashram, where we got all our meals plus 2 yoga classes a day. Despite not actually living inside the ashram per se, we found there were actually a number of perks which made it preferable to stay off site. Most importantly, we had wifi in our room, whereas the ashram provides only one desktop computer with a really slow internet connection for all the residents to use. And, they lock the gate at 9:30pm so residents have to be back before it closes at night or they're in trouble, whereas we could come and go as we pleased any time of day at our hotel. Then again, our first yoga class of the day did start at 6:00am soo it was not really in our best interest to stay out much later than 9:30 at night anyways, thus negating the advantage most days.
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| A public Ghat down to the Ganges, with Cafes at the top |
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| No idea what this guy was about. He came up to Cameron and put a bindi on his forehead (a sign that you've worshipped a diety, which we hadn't) without asking, then asked us for money. He hissed at us as we walked away without paying. |
ASHRAM LIFE
As the reigning yoga capital of the world, today Rishikesh is home to over 100 ashrams, so you might be wondering how on earth we chose the one we did. Truthfully, it was tough because, beyond the sheer number to choose from, we were faced with the added challenge of having differing ideas for what we each wanted out of our ashram experience. I was more open to the traditional, structured lifestyle that ashrams are known to provide (or 'yoga boot camp' as Cameron identified it), whereas he was looking for a more flexible, participate as much or as little as you like, 'yoga holiday'-style arrangement. We looked at dozens of websites and reviews for different ashrams, but we found most either didn't have enough or any yoga at all, or seemed to be either one or the other style of operation. But when we looked at Anand Prakash, they intimated a more moderate stance which appealed to us both. There was 2 yoga classes a day, including some authentic ashramy things like karma yoga (selfless service), silent periods, chanting and Ayurvedic meals - which all made me happy - but there was also no
mention of being required to attend all scheduled events or at any time facing expulsion - which relieved Cameron. After our first day there, we knew we had made the right choice. Even though we had to get up early, the ashram schedule from Monday to Saturday (Sunday was a free day, except for volunteering to clean and do chores around the ashram as an act of karma yoga) wasn't difficult for either of us to keep; our day would start at 6am with yoga for an hour and a half, and then fire puja - which is prayers and chanting in Hindi around a fire pit, interspersed with offerings of ghee (clarified butter) and spices - followed by breakfast at 8:30. Outside of the chanting in yoga class, fire puja, and the breakfast prayer, we were asked to keep silent from 9:30pm until 9:00am when inside the ashram, and this was the only rule I ever heard of anyone getting scolded for for breaking (but they were very gentle about it). We ate meals in the dining hall, sitting cross-legged in front of short stools for tables. All the food was Ayurvedic (vegetarian, with no
strong chili spices or garlic but plenty of turmeric, curry, cum, and other healthy herbs and spices) and prepared fresh by the most adorable, glowing, round-faced Nepali woman named Nihru. Breakfast usually consisted of delicious pitted dates, some kind of fruit and two other items such as porridge, granola, banana samosas, chickpeas, or a lightly curried rice with peas and carrots. For lunch and dinner, we ate a lot of rice, chapati (a thin hybrid between pita bread and wheat tortillas), dal (curried lentils), mixed vegetable curry, palak paneer (spinach with cubes of fluffy indian mozzarella), and chickpeas, but it was always delicious and never predictable, so we loved it. Towards the end of our stay, Cameron was starting to crave meat pretty badly, but I didn't miss it much at all. After breakfast, we'd break the silence and start chatting with our
ashram mates and exchange plans for the day, sometimes joining up to go to a nearby cafe or down into Rishikesh for the market and amazing lassis and samosas, and other times we'd just do our own thing. At 12:30, the bell for lunch at the ashram would call us back, but sometimes we'd be so comfortable at one of the cafes by the Ganga that we'd forgo the ashram meal in favour for something a la carte; this eventually ended up being the (only) justification for us leaving the ashram after two weeks, because we were eating fewer and fewer meals on site and it didn't make sense for us to be paying for food we weren't eating. Between 1-4pm we had more free time to relax, make use of the yoga & meditation halls and well-stocked library, again make an expedition to the shops, cafes and dozens of ashrams lining the river, go for a swim in the Ganga or hike up to one of the
handful of waterfalls nearby. Some people from the ashram took advantage of the many tour companies who offered white water rafting, guided hikes, bungee jumping, and jeep safari tours in a national park 1hr away where you could supposedly see elephants, tigers, and rhinos among other things. Then, at 4:00pm we'd have our second 90-minute yoga class of the day, followed by a healthy dinner in the dining hall at six. On Tuesday and Saturday evenings there was Kiirtan, which is like group singing, music-making and chanting, but it didn't really tickle our fancy so we'd usually go out for a masala chai or head back to our room for the night. The best part of the ashram experience for me?
For sure the daily yoga (especially on the rooftop at sunrise!), which definitely increased my flexibility while providing some much-needed routine exercise to boost my fitness and metabolism, and then of course the great friends we made through the ashram community. People from all over the world and all walks of life come to Rishikesh, some seeking spiritual enlightenment, others to train as yoga teachers or just to relax and do the body some good for a while. We've got a lot of stories to tell about the many interesting characters we came across here, but I'll save those goodies to tell you in person ;) Thankfully, there wasn't really any bad parts to speak of, but if I had to choose, I'd say the greatest challenge for me was probably the sitting cross-legged at all meals - even though other postures became much easier with practice, this one actually became much harder. My knees and hips protested vehemently right up until the last day >_<. And for Cameron? His greatest challenge can be summed up in one word: vegetarianism.
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| Silent breakfast in the dining hall at Anand Prakash |
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| Fire Puja |
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| Relaxing near the Ganga |
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| Puppy Yoga at the Ashram |
OM
Though our two weeks at the ashram were up, we weren't quite ready to leave harmonious Rishikesh just yet. So, we found ourselves a new guesthouse one block away (so we could still meet up with our lovely ashram friends) and carried on with our "busy doing nothing" routine of chillin in cafes, reading, eating delicious vegan baking and vegetarian Italian pizzas, drinking lassis and chais, walking, swimming in the Ganga, doing yoga, and occasionally getting wild by venturing out of the hippy ghetto around the ashrams and into the more Indian part of Rishikesh. Oh, and I learned how to make a proper masala chai! It's
ridiculously simple - ask me how when I get back. It felt like we'd found bliss, but it wasn't through quite the same path our Yogirishi had been teaching us while we meditated during yoga class. Nevertheless, we felt supremely balanced and content. I had this confirmed for me actually when I went for a consultation appointment with an Ayurvedic doctor. It was an hour long session in which he took my pulse, checked my tongue and fingers, then conducted a personality and behavioural test to determine my 'Dosha', or my Ayurvedic constitution/body type. I was diagnosed as dominantly Pitta (the fire element), minoring in Vata (the air element), and the doctor explained to me at length what this meant for my life in terms of what sort of diet and eating pattern best suits me, as well as typical mental and emotional tendencies and dysfunctions that may arise when my Doshas get out of balance. He advised a bunch of "best practices" to include in my life like yoga postures, mantras, herbs, massages and scents which will all help me to fortify my Dosha and ward off sickness. But, he said he didn't have any recommended treatments for me because he felt I was a very balanced person already, so that was cool.
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| The Real Chai |
It took three weeks, but finally we mustered up the motivation to move on from Rishikesh. We took a night train to Gorakhpur, from there a 2 hour taxi to the Sanauli border crossing,
followed by a 4 hour bus ride to Tansen, Nepal. It's a very historic hill town in central Nepal, sitting on and surrounded by mountain. There are no rickshaws there because I suspect they wouldn't be able to handle the steep hills on every street. But it was good practice for us! We hiked up to a park on the top of the small mountain it's located on, and were led by a group of elementary school boys to the top of an unfinished view tower which is being rebuilt after Nepalese Maoist revolutionaries bombed it in 2002. At lunch, we found ourselves at a hotel overlooking the whole of Tansen and had ourselves a delicious Nepali lunch of Thupka (Nepali chicken noodle soup) for me, and mutton curry for my meat-starved man. We also had our first beer in over 3 weeks (no meat or alcohol anywhere in Rishikesh) and it was oh so refreshing.
The next morning, we bussed to beautiful lakeside Pokhara, the second biggest city in Nepal after Kathmandu, and have found our base before starting our weeks-long trek in the Annapurna mountains in a couple days time!
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| Tansen Town Centre |
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| Note the Goat: Nepalese Buses take all manner of passengers |
Besides trekking, for now our future plans include a return to Northern India after Nepal, in particular the picturesque Kashmir and Punjab region for the Sikh facet of fascinating Indian culture. Then, the next country on our list is none other than Turkey.
Until next time..
Ta-ta (Nepalese for bye bye :3)
Julie
