The Road to the Holy City

Another early start today. We leave this place behind (thankfully) in a large green tour bus embellished with a tiger on the rear... (Mean Tony Green the Tiger) I claim the back of the bus and stretch out on the long seat. I have not slept and I am too tired to enjoy the scenery. Within 10-20 miles, I realize that it just will not work. Bumps beyond reason, curves that are so severe that several backpacks topple on top of me as I lie attempting to rest. We play silly games after I crawl to the front, full of nausea and just attempting to think of anything but how terrible I feel. Tape the name to your forehead, guess who I am...the usual. Matt can't be bothered and I can't blame him. We stop at a roadside dive for samosas and pakoras. This is our 'last' stop in the 'Green Machine'. We cannot take that bus over the 'border' (between what would be counties) and must find a new means for transport. That would be several jeeps or trucks with our baggage on a seperate rig that questionably will make the trip. Our fellow traveler John from Pennsylvania, (far more seasoned in this than most of us) offers to travel with the bags...bless him. Once again, a LONG, arduous, and bizarre day behind us, we arrive in the mecca of India...Varanasi. I feel far too tired and shuffled about to fully appreciate the journey. I have moments and remind myself, but it is hard doing so today.
The city is the usual....filth and the stench beyond explanation. Conditions that us Westerners have no concept of. We are escorted by our local guide to a very elaborate, top-notch hotel. Again, I feel the sting of knowing the poor and depraved are only on our doorstep as we dine in what would be to them, complete luxury. Such a contradiction. Must sleep...I am done for today.
Awakened at 0500 today. We pile into the waiting Tuk-Tuks and rush to the Ganges for sunrise. The smog is heavy, the stench prolific. We wind down narrow alleyways barely missing the pilgrims and beggars....and cows. We are told to get out and walk down the alley...avoiding the excrement and travelers. It seems like we are lost and have been led astray. It is early and many of us in the travel haze, from lack of sleep or sickness.
The walk takes us down one last narrow, covered alley....elderly women and men sleeping near it's walls. Then....into the open again.....it is the Ganges.... out in front of us out of nowhere. It comes out of the darkness of the alley and catches us offguard. It is barely light and hazy. The stairs are steep and I feel a bit stunned. It really is a sight to behold with the steep stairs leading to the river. The pilgrims and worshippers are gathered and beginning their rituals. The candles lit, the prayers have started. I hear piped in commentary from overhead....prayer perhaps....in Punjabi, Bengali or the language of choice.
We approach the river and are led to a boat and climb aboard. It is a long and canoe-like and all of us fit as best we can. The sun is rising and we must be on our way. It is, of course, aimed to tourists...as most of our fellow boats are...loaded with tourists and cameras. Caucasian, oriental, Asian...people from all over the world. We are simply paddled along the shorline. The buildings are beyond years, some even sinking into the riverbed. The air is heavy with smog and chatter from the shoreline. We are approached by a boat paddled by a single man selling religious relics of all kinds. I am not surprised. It would not be out of the ordinary...but it is...sublime. The shoreline...or base of the steps into the river are heaving with pilgrims. They are oblivious to us tourists with our cameras and stares. They are here to worship. They bathe, rinse, wash clothing, do laundry, drink.....in one of the filthiest rivers on the planet. This is their holiest of holy. They are in joy, in bliss, in peace. I am envious. No matter who watches, takes a photo, floats past....no matter. This is the Mother Ganga and she will heal all. To have such faith, such hope, such fortitude. I buy a candle from the young lad, on the boat with us, to float in the river. It sinks. Appropriate, I think....for I am an observer, not a devotee.
These people bathe, wash, drink, worship and upriver are the burning ghats that scrape ashes of the deceased into the river. We come along a cow carcass being enjoyed by a crow. These such things trouble us onlookers and those that travel long and hard to get here pay no mind. The circle of life. What a glorious and profound thing. I am moved and in awe of what I am seeing. Again, I am grateful.
It is time to leave and we do so like the good little tourists that we are. We spend time in the city with an overbearing tour guide at the silk factory. He is far too pushy for my liking.

Although after the Ganges, we attended a Hindi ceremony at the local University....it is beyond amazing. I am nearly moved to tears by the power and ceremony of it.
Alas...we again retire to the splendid hotel amongst our fellow travelers in the tranquility of it's borders. It has been an already eventful day by this time and it is good to rest in the sun a bit. Souvenir shopping in the motel shops with a fellow traveler Julia, and it's drinks in the courtyard. I think all day of how fortunate I am again... to be alive and well, experiencing life.

Testy Trucks and Super Spiders

Daphne won't move. It is a beautiful Friday morning and we are all ready to go (albeit with a longing to stay..I adore this place). Figure her clutch is bad. There are far worse places to be stranded. We pile out and those who haven't eaten head to breakfast. Some of us go on a lovely paddled boat ride on the river.  It really is a gorgeous morning. The remainder of the afternoon is spent in the treetop bar, chatting and consuming drinks. For those of us not tending to the truck, it's all about RELAXING.
Our replacement truck arrives at nearly 5pm. It is the epitomy of the tourist tour bus.  Hmm. I am disappointed, Reclining seats, air, carpeting. Others love it, one being our 4 months pregnant, Norwegian cohort Hege...she has good reason. Nik is left behind to deal with the temporamental Daphne.  I have a feeling we won't see her again soon.
The ride is as smooth as can be with a driver that tries to break the sound barrier at times. The roads are curvy and narrow, putting the narrow roads of England to shame.  He is forever competing with every mode of transportation available.  One or two fellow travelers remain ill. It is the curries I am told.  (I would blame the meat, as I remain strictly vegetarian, but one of our ill mates is as well and still suffers.)

The countryside is lush and glorious, the people exotic and beautiful. I am stunned by the beauty of it. Yet, I am a county girl and see no such glory in the city. The 'homes' are rustic huts of mud and straw, like a huge step back to ages past. Most people are shoeless. What they must think of us gliding by in a vehicle that costs more than most anyone in this place could even imagine in a lifetime. It is vulgar at best.  Most of us are angry that Daphne failed us.  We are not touchable or fascinating to the locals anymore.  Just wealthy travelers looking out at the masses in our elaborate bus. It makes me sad. That part of the experience now gone.

We arrive late, tired and stressed at Bandavgarh National Park.  These long days of driving get to all of us.  Hired drivers are impatient, and rushed...frequently stopping at inconvenient roadsides to 'accommodate' those ill or needing a pit stop. I miss Daphne, with Nik or Tamar at the wheel.

The park is in the appearance of a military camp it seems....nothing warm or cozy about it.  We must put our tents up on the sandy ground under the trees.  Trees loaded with mad monkeys and spiders far larger than any I am used to.  Supper is again late.  Matt likes the 'mess hall'.  I don't care for the staff.  They are rather stone-faced and unwelcoming. It is not the Ken River Lodge by any stretch. It is government run...that explains it. Matt and Amber (a fellow somwhat 'spoiled' gal from New Orleans...that works for a corporate cruise line and I am sad to say...it shows) are quite apprehensive about the spiders and sleeping on the ground. They are roughly the size of my hand, not including the legs, a wild yellow and black. Luckily, harmless. Amber is weepy at the table at the prospect. Ugh...oh boy. In my house, yes...I would likely be crying like a baby...in the wild, it IS expected I would think?

Sleep is hard to get to...big meal late....LOUD obnoxious men, dogs barking.  I REALLY don't like it here...doesn't feel right.  I am told that the trees rustled all night...not the wind.  Monkeys.

We are dragged up at 6am to head out into the park via jeeps to see if tigers can be spotted. The park is worth the trip here.  It is gorgeous. It is, of course, a lovely morning and I just love the open air. Open jeeps with tigers...that can't be right.  No tigers are seen. I didn't really expect to, they are nocturnal after all.  I sit wishing we could have been out at 4am instead.(I have recently spoken to a woman that was there about a year ago and saw 5 tigers...I was sick with jealousy..) There are plenty of monkeys, deer and boars with a few elephants for good measure.  The driver is seemingly rushed as well.  Must just be India...everyone in a moving vehicle just can't resist I guess. He stops the jeep at one point below a huge spider in a web above the road and nearly half of the jeep's occupants nearly jumped out of the rig or at least 'freaked out' in the process.  I don't think she is big and mad enough to come down and get us all...and it makes me laugh. I am only really fascinated and blissful that I am actually in India. India...after all.  Spiders or no spiders.

The remainder of the day is spent roaming the small village nearby for a bit, then sitting in the bar with others chatting. It is nice to chat and get to know those we are with. Matt spends a great deal of time filming the monkeys that roam the grounds and live in the trees.  Man, they are big... and plentiful. They are Hanuman Monkeys named in honor of the Hindu god-man. They are a gorgeous cream/yellow with black faces framed in hair. 

We hear nothing about Nik or Daphne. Tamar and I plan a bit of a birthday celebration for 2 ladies that have birthdays. Matt had brought some pop-up cards from the UK that were perfect and Tamar recruited kitchen staff to track down birthday cake. I spent the day getting signatures from all of the fellow travelers at opportune times and the cakes arrived right on time after supper.  So, it was curries and cake and a knife that sang happy birthday. A nice celebration. The place may not been my favorite, but just being here and having the experience makes me grateful. Even if I must remind myself at times.

It would have been nice to call it a night and get restful sleep.  Not to be. The zipper on the tent would not close...Matt in a panic about the giant spider invasion.  I was more concerned about the huge monkeys hanging in the trees above our heads. It's out of the tent and putting up a new tent in the dark. We finally collapse into the tent and are barraged late in the night by obnoxious men laughing, talking far too loudly and carrying on all night long. I am never so glad to leave a place by morning and being one of the moments I MUST remind myself to be grateful.