Final Thoughts

I'm not exactly sure what to write on this last entry of my blog. Part of me doesn't want to write anything at all because that means closing the chapter of my life that just happened and, to be honest, I don't really want to close that chapter.

In my thank you note to Abhi, I wrote that I'd always wanted to go to India but I really wasn't sure why. Now, I told him, I know. But how to describe the reason? Impossible. All I know is that I can't stop thinking about that enchanting, vibrant, colorful, chaotic place. When I bought Christmas ribbon at Michaels, I thought about the workers in the paper factory; when I wandered down the aisles at Mariano's, I thought about the homeless people in Old Delhi; when I breathe in the crisp Chicago air, I think about the smog and haze in so much of northern India; when I drive down clean, cowless streets, I think about the litter and the cows. So many cows ... and dogs ... and vehicles ... and people!

After reading what I just wrote, you're probably thinking that it doesn't make sense that I loved it so much! See? Impossible to describe the reason. The spirit and generosity and kindness and tenacity of the people the temples the weddings the craziness the palaces the villages the wildlife the colors the extremes the artisans the art the contrasts the culture and traditions and history the food ...

I saw a gas station restaurant today on Halsted called Kaybee's Indian Flavor, which kind of made me chuckle, and when I looked it up later, it actually got decent reviews. Who knew?

Even before I went to India, I knew that it would not be my last trip there. Throughout the trip, the people in my group would occasionally ask one another, "Where are you going next? Where's your next trip?" It's fun to consider all the possibilities. And though I would love to see a brand new part of the world (Africa? Patagonia? New Zealand?), there's still that tugging on my heart to go back to India.

Maybe this isn't my last blog entry after all. ☺

A Note About Houses

As far as architectural style, there's not much variation among houses in India, at least from the point of view of someone with an untrained eye. We definitely saw some opulent homes during our travels, but the average village house is a square or rectangular concrete structure with various additions, all square or rectangular. Many of these concrete houses are unpainted, which gives them a look of being unfinished. (In fact, all of the houses in the village we visited in Rajasthan were unpainted.) Some of the houses have wooden doors, but many have no doors at all, just openings.

Abhi said that many Indians don’t trust banks and possibly have never even opened any kind of account. So after they build a house, they work on it little by little. For example, first it’s a one-story unpainted structure, then a second story is added, then it is painted, and so on. Even the couple who hosted us in Jaipur had just added a second story to their house.

Often you’ll see a heart with the date and some names painted on the front of the house. This is the wedding date of a couple who lives inside. I’m not sure how long that information is left, but all the dates I saw were from 2019, so maybe just a year. I had asked Abhi how mail is even delivered in the villages, as I never saw addresses on the houses. He said the postmen just know where the houses are by memory and experience.

Scaffolding is very rudimentary. It’s basically just tall wooden sticks (as big around as a circle made with both hands) placed all over for support. Even at the Varanasi Airport we saw this!

Abhi took us to a “modern” grocery/department store in Agra but most of the places to buy things for everyday life are merely tiny open shops a little bigger than the size of my kitchen. In front of those shops are the people selling produce and other items completely in the open. Abhi describes India as being a developing country decades behind its western counterparts, but I think it’s closer to being a century behind, at least the villages we drove through. What makes it stand out as being modern is the swath of motorbikes everywhere.

A typical village house, this one with the
marriage info painted on the side

A typical shop. This man in Khajuraho is selling
things to chew, such as paan (made with betel)
and natural gum

Sunrise on the Ganges

The next morning, we could join Abhi and Krishna at 5:45 if we wished (the only ones who didn’t go were Charlie and Diane because of Diane’s sickness) to go to the river again, but this time for the sunrise. We parked at an intersection and began walking toward the river, to the ghats where the ceremony was the night before. Abhi explained that we would be accompanied by two young men who would help guide us and make sure we walked safely down the street, avoiding cow manure, cows, uneven pavement, etc. The “boys,” as Abhi called them (he uses that term a lot, for bus drivers, porters, etc.!) were born deaf and couldn’t speak, and Abhi said giving them money for doing this type of job was helping them keep from begging or committing crimes. They were so sweet!

It was barely past 6am and already so busy! People were selling all sorts of things, mostly having to do with prayer and the river. One woman sold plastic jugs for people to collect water from the river and take home. One woman was selling sticks from the neem tree for people to brush their teeth with. There were people doing that right by her little stall! One woman was selling coins worth 1/10th of a rupee. She typically sells 8 of them for a rupee to make a profit, and then people buy them to donate one or two to some of the pilgrims lining the street. Even this small amount of money (just a few cents worth) will help them sustain them for their stay in Varanasi. Abhi bought some and dropped the coins in some of their little tin pans. Many people were selling marigolds, especially in little disposable bowls made out of dried leaves surrounding a candle to be used as an offering to the dead. At one point the power went out so it was a good thing the boys were with us!

Selling jugs for holy water collection

Selling marigold offering bowls

We reached the river and were allowed to wander around for 10 minutes, exploring another incredible scene. I couldn’t believe how many people were there already! Dozens of them were bathing in the water, most of them going completely under, even in street clothes. We reconvened at a little shop and Abhi bought chai and cookies for anyone who was interested. The chai was the best I’d ever had! It was served in disposable clay cups, but Sharon and I kept ours when we finished.

Bathers

A holy  man (yes, this is real!)

More bathers

Sunrise. The seagulls were everywhere in the
morning––Krishna said they migrate from
Siberia. People feed them dried ramen noodles,
which you can buy on the street. Not like Chicago!

As we were walking, one man came up to Bob and started massaging his hand along the way! For a tip, of course.

Next we went to one of the platforms where priests sit. It was completely optional to take part in a blessing by the priests, and most of us did it, following Abhi’s lead. Two priests worked at a time, chanting/singing a blessing about remembering the dead (I think so, anyway!!—Abhi had told us ahead a time to think of someone close to us who had died but I was so wrapped up in the ceremony itself that I completely forgot to do it!). They marked our foreheads with what Mimi aptly described as “Hindu war paint” and then blew loudly (very loudly!) into conch shells. They gave us marigolds to place in a little offering pile. I was scolded by my priest for using my right hand—Abhi told me later that women use their left hand for offerings and men use their right hand. Details, details.

    Mimi, Sharon, and I after our blessing

Then we boarded a boat and traveled up the river some more. Krishna pointed out the guest house where the Beatles stayed for a while, and in fact their song “Here Comes the Sun” was written out front. I thought that was a cool but of trivia! The sunrise was beautiful. Abhi pointed out a hotel where Goldie Hawn had stayed once but that wasn’t a cool bit of trivia in my opinion.

Abhi had a tray of those little marigold offering bowls, and he lit them and we could place them on the water’s surface after thinking of a loved one who had died. I touched the water! Kind of exciting to be able to say I’ve dipped my hand in the Ganges.

We then disembarked, met by our our deaf friends, and headed back to the bus. One thing I forgot to mention throughout this trip is that the relentless souvenir vendors who follow you and pester you everywhere (Abhi calls them people just trying to make a living) will often congregate near the bus door when we’re getting back on. Then Abhi negotiates prices for all the things they’re selling and holds what he calls the “Bus Bazaar.” He’ll hold up a bunch of necklaces, for instance, and say, “Who would like one of these? 200 rupees only.” Then he’ll go through the rest of the items and do the same. We’ve all bought something from the Bus Bazaar!

Some of our marigold offerings

Our "boat boy," as Abhi would say

More bathers, this time with a view from our boat.
This ghat is special because it is dedicated to Shiva
(see the temples at the top)

We finally saw a snake charmer

An ascetic sleeping in the warm
ashes. "Ohmygod," said Krisha in
his calm voice, "I've never seen one
so close to the heat like that."

Sunset on the Ganges

After we returned from the silk weaving place, we had a little free time to eat lunch, etc., and then the women in our group were all invited to participate in trying on saris in Mimi’s room. It was fun. (Everyone but Diane [still sick] and Fonda [tired and had a cold] came.) The woman who dressed us was actually the wife of the OAT guy in Varanasi who’d met us at the airport. (Side note: Abhi said it’s an internal joke that some of the trip leaders call the giant OAT signs they sometimes carry “We Fix Anything” signs.) Niha, the dresser, is a very engaging and beautiful Muslim woman whose English wasn’t perfect but she was so sweet and kind we didn’t care, and we figured out how to communicate after a while.

Funny how you can call someone Muslim or Hindu or Sikh in India without it being considered offensive that you’re calling out their religion. And identifying someone as being from southern India because of their darker skin is also acceptable.

"Indian" "beauties"

At 4:00 we headed to the River Ganges, again with Krishna to explain things. First he told us some statistics about Varanasi. It’s called the City of Bulls and Bells, meaning that in a city of just over a million, there are 50,000 cows and 30,000 temples. At the river, 250 bodies are cremated daily and 20 to 30 thousand pilgrims come every day as well, sometimes so poor that they stay in special hostels that cost around $2/night.

Unless you’ve been to this holy river (and the side with all the activity is considered the holiest because it’s closest to where the Hindu god Shiva is thought to have been born; also, the other side is too sandy for building), there’s no way to adequately describe the scene. It is a feast for every single one of your senses—so, so much to take in. Mentally exhausting, joyful, and stimulating at the same time. The length of the river is lined with a kind of concrete boardwalk with steps (called ghats) leading down to another boardwalk. Krishna and Abhi told us that during monsoon season, sometimes the river rises up well past the top of the ghats, sometimes even flooding the buildings there! Each set of ghats has a different name, clearly labeled at the top.

As we walked down to our boat, we noticed hundreds of small square-shaped kites darting and dipping back all across the sky. Seeing that added to the already surreal atmosphere; they moved in the air like giant pieces of ash. The kites, operated by young boys (think The Kite Runner), are made out of tissue paper. Some of the “modern” ones have plastic strings, which can be very dangerous and of course not compostable. The boys stand all over, sometimes atop palace turrets, to fly them in a sort of competition. Someone in our group asked why there were no girl kite flyers, and Krishna said the girls were probably in the kitchen with their mothers. 

Our boat was a long boat similar to a punt but with a motor. A young man stood and steered it along the river’s edge. So many people! Some playing, some bathing, some doing laundry, some praying, some flying kites...thousands of people! We reached the main ghat where the bodies are burned (there’s one other one) and the motor was turned off so Krishna could explain things. Wow, wow, wow, how can I describe this?! Piles and piles of wood, bodies wrapped in colorful cloth waiting to be burned, and around five bodies at a time burning on the wood, the flames high and bright against the darkening sky. There’s a crematorium at the top of the ghats where additional bodies are burned inside using natural gas, but that method is not considered as “pure.” This burning happens every day, 24-7.

Then we moved along some more and reached the ghats where the nightly thanksgiving ceremony was beginning. Every single day of the year, the ceremony takes place. And what a ceremony! We pulled up to the bank and got out of the boat and walked around in the crowd a little, taking it all in. The ghats there were packed with people of all ages and genders to watch the Hindu priests give thanks to Mother Ganga, the holy river.

There are two sections of the ceremony, with a particular number of priests on one side and another number on the other side (I can’t remember how many, but the numbers are significant in some way—maybe 3 and 4?) They’re dressed in bright oranges and red, the colors of fire, and they chant and dance, holding lamps and other vessels that hold burning flames. The audience chants and sings along.

It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life.

Eventually we got back in the boat and headed back to the hotel, where we had our farewell dinner, minus Diane, who was still sick and had stayed at the hotel the whole day. She missed a spectacle!

Boarding our boat

Logs headed for the cremation ghat

 

The tall boy is operating a kite

Cremation ghat

This photo gives you an idea of
how the ghats look (look closely for a label)

     

Sunset (look closely to see the kites in the air)

Nice view!

A machine dredges the river twice a day
to scoop up all the marigolds people offer

A Sadhu (religious ascetic), complete with
water bottle, enjoying the nightly ceremony

Part of the audience for the nightly ceremony

Three Hindu priests waving fire
around during the nightly ceremony.
Pictures don't do this justice!

Halfway Home

Hello! Our days in Varanasi were so busy that I haven’t yet had time to write anything about both of our trips to the Ganges, one at sunset on Sunday and one at sunrise on Monday. What a way to end this spectacular trip!

I am now at the Frankfurt Airport, waiting to board my flight to Chicago, which should happen in about 40 minutes. My plan is to write about the Ganges offline on the plane (after I finish watching “The Biggest Little Farm,” which I started on the flight from Delhi). Charlie and Diane were on that flight and now they head back to LA, so I said good-bye to them after we passed through security. (Diane is finally better now—-she ended up not being able to participate in any of the Varanasi activities because she was so sick. She even missed the farewell dinner. ☹️ Oh, and Mimi ended up being sick on the last day and I heard it was so bad that she had to be pushed around in a wheelchair at the Delhi Airport! ☹️ So grateful that my about of Delhi Belly only lasted one morning, and that it wasn’t that severe.)

Yesterday morning after we returned from the Ganges and had breakfast, etc., we listed to a short sitar and tabla (drum) performance by a musician and his nephew. It was really nice. Funny, too, because just when we thought it was the end and started clapping, they’d start up again with sneaky smiles. Paul whispered to me, “They really like endings,” which I thought was funny. Then we went to the airport and flew to Delhi, where we checked into an airport hotel in a very nice hotel/shopping area that didn’t look at all like the Delhi we’d seen at the beginning of our trip! On the bus ride to the Varanasi Airport, Abhi told us we’re one of the best groups he’d ever had, which I’m sure he says to every group but it was still nice to hear. ☺️ He repeated that you don’t come to India for the luxury, but for the experience. And he gave a special shout out to the women who traveled alone. Yay! He gave everyone a little Buddha statue with incense. Such a good guy, and he loves his country.

Charlie and Diane and I walked to the mall, which was mostly restaurants, and wandered around. Then everyone but Mimi and Sharon went to Tim and Linda’s room for one last happy hour. It was, as always, a blast, but of course also bittersweet. Then we all had our last dinner (buffet) and said good-bye to those we wouldn’t be seeing in the morning for our departures. Seven of us were leaving Delhi around 3:30am so we had to meet in the lobby at midnight. The logistics of everything were handled very nicely! And now I’m here in a Frankfurt. Below are some photos from happy hour.

KK and Abhi

Charlie, Tim, Diane, and I

Fonda, Mark, and I

Linda and I

                         

Linda and a Tim at dinner. Instead of a  “Reserved” sign,
there was a “Promised sign, which we got a kick out of!

 
Diane and I at the mall

Sarnath and Silk Weaving

This morning, after my workout and breakfast, we all met at 9:00 for a short bus ride to Sarnath. So glad, by the way, that I have been working out as often as I can because I’ve also been eating very often, and usually a lot! For instance, this morning I vowed that I would only have cereal and hard-boiled eggs for breakfast and then when I reached the buffet, all my promise went out the window—I want to try everything! The hotel buffets always have a combination of Western and Indian food. I saw Charlie in the gym; he told me Diane is pretty sick with “Delhi Belly.” Ugh, right before we leave, too. ☹️ She didn’t join us for our morning activities. 

We were accompanied during the morning by a man named Krishna, who told us a bit about the history of Varanasi. It’s a couple thousand years old, and even older than that under different names. It feels cleaner and more modern here than other places we’ve seen. We’re staying at the Taj Hotel, which is beautiful! https://www.tajhotels.com/en-in/taj/taj-ganges/?utm_source=Google&utm_campaign=taj-ganges&utm_medium=Local

Sarnath is considered the cradle of Buddhism. Buddha actually gave his first sermon here. We visited a temple and an archaeological museum that houses Buddhist art (and some Hindu and Jain art)—mostly sculptures that are dated as old as the 3rd century. I liked the museum but thought it was comical that pigeons were flying in and out of it! Two were up on a light fixture, squawking during one of Krishna’s explanations. I think they were mating haha. And one was building a nest at the top of one of the sculptures. 

The Buddhist temple we visited
(on a  Buddhist “campus”)

Temple from a different angle; the bell
was donated by Richard Gere

This new standing Buddha was built in
“retaliation” to the Taliban destroying  Buddhist works of art

A memorial to where Buddha gave his first sermon

 

Next we went to a family-owned silk weaving shop that creates and sells absolutely gorgeous brocade saris, scarves, tablecloths, wall hangings, etc. The shop has been around for generations. The 

owner first showed us how the silk was woven, and then took us to a showroom to show us all the beautiful things we could buy. (I only bought three things, don’t worry!) Just as the other artisan shop owners told us, this owner was saying that this type of handiwork is a dying art form. His youngest master weaver, for instance, is 62 years old. 

There are four or five looms in the room he showed us, but he has over 100 more. Only one of the looms is the “original” type of loom, where the weaver has to memorize the design and can only work on one design. The rest were all jacquard looms, which use cards as a code to tell the weavers which colors to use, etc. He said only six of his weavers can operate the original loom, and he says 

they are creating art. The rest all use the jacquard looms, and he says those weavers are not creating art, but doing their jobs. Very interesting concept! He also employs many women, who work from looms in their home as they have time. So they’re freelance weavers! All the weavers get payed for the number of centimeters they complete in a 5-hour day. One day of work from the jacquard loom will produce about 40cm; one day of work from the original loom will only produce about 3cm! 

Close up of the cards
on the jacquard loom

             

The silk thread that’s used

Weaver on the jacquard loom

 
The showroom

Original loom