BACK TO RISHIKESH

BACK TO RISHIKESH

On my walk the next day I became so aware of all the people on the street.I experienced it as a wave of souls. This wave becameThe One approaching me from in front and advancing upon me from behind and I realized how His grace is always descending upon us frome above.

Met Ingrid from Sweden at the Ganga view restaurant. She is spending time living with a couple Babas outside Laxman-Jhula. She invites me to lunch for the next day out where they are living. Neema’s son, (Neema and her husband are the owners of the Guest-house where I am staying and also the Ganga View restaurant) tells me he is also going to lunch at the Babas. So we go together on his motorbike.

It was a beautiful ride through the mountains, looking down at the Ganga as we wound our way through. Two other bikers joined us. A male European and a male Native American. I enjoyed watching the long black braid of the Native American flying in the breeze as he rode in front of us.

Upon our arrival after a good hour on the bikes we park and begin walking down a hill only to realize there is a shorter way to our destination and walk back up the hill. I was last up the hill. I tried to keep up, as I was embarrassed to lie so far behind. But I simply could not. I had to stop to catch my breath and give my legs a rest, as they just would not obey my mind of moving forward any longer. I was shocked. A couple Indians passed me and mentioned that it was because of my heart. Ya, I know. But I just did not realize to what extent that would be so limiting. By the time I got up the hill they were all on their bikes waiting for me. Back on the road we find the cut that Neema’s son was looking for. We road through a very, very narrow little path that had bricks to the side. It was actually a footpath that went straight down. I was told to just hold on. Of which I did and really fun!! After getting off the bikes it was a long walk in the hot sun. I was concerned about the heat as I had just been through the scary experience of getting sick in the sun only a few days ago. I began feeling weak and pulled out a tiny towel from my pack and placed over my head. There was a trickle of water running along some stones and I wet the towel and replaced it on my head. It was not much of a protection but I would take anything I could get. After awhile we meet our guests and have a typical Indian lunch on the ground under a tree. Thanks for the shade! After lunch, Ingrid leads me to a tiny stone structure, which was the living quarters of the Sadhus. Extremely rugged, the floors being dirt with big holes in it. There are a couple thin pieces of cloth on the dirt for sleeping and a simple fire, ah pit. Other than that there is nothing, not even a door. It was just a small space, rough loose dirt with big holes, and thin cloth layed out for sleeping. That was it.

The Sadhus are certainly wonderful. They are young, having decided early in life that the quest for God is the only thing that is important to them in life. They are perhaps in their twenties, and thirties. Their whole manner and communication was a delight to watch. Both spoke some below the waist English but as usual it was still hard for me to catch everything. One Sadhu had dread locks below his waist; mostly they wear them wrapped up on their head. The other one had long hair worn loose. Both had long beards.

 Ingrid introduced me to one whom I would talk with later. He invited me in and we sat on the ground inside drinking Chai and munching on a sweet. We talked and I was keenly drawn to a beautiful light, or something, I am really not sure what it was, that radiated from his eyes. It made me focus and it was very calm and peaceful.  Many things were said of which my memory eludes me now. He would talk then there would be a span of time of silence. What stands out is that he said,” Perhaps if you found what your desire was in the inner and then found what it was on the outside and then to see how these compare, that I could find what I was looking for.” When I said that I felt a guru if he chose to could simply touch you and you would be enlightened or enter samhadi, he said that if that was what I believe then yes to me it was possible. When I grew silent he mentioned we should go down the hill back to the others. However, when we arrived back to the group my party was ready to leave. I would have loved to spend time with him after having time to reflect. It had been difficult to understand him because of his heavy accent. But his voice was calm and peaceful with a very present feeling of knowledge I had not even pierced.

I am due to leave Laxman Jhula soon and have things I want to do but it is close to impossible now. They require hours in the sun of which I now know I am not comfortable to do.

My last three days I took care of Tsugumi as she has been sick. I go back and forth to the aryuveda doctor a few times a day through the thick crowds of the millions that are passing through the tiny streets of Laxman-Juhla, over the far bridge and into Ram Jhula and on to Haridwar for the Kumbhla Mela. I stay with Tsugumi many hours for the next three days.

The night before my departure Neema invites me to dinner. I stay with her in the kitchen as she prepares the food and we have great conversations. She tells me that no one has ever passed through her guesthouse that was like me and that I was welcome anytime. She wanted me to come back in November for her favorite festival. But that would be over 2 years ago now, as I write this and I have not been able to return.

The day came for me to leave for Naintal and I was packed and checked out of my room. I went to see how Tsugumi was doing and she had gotten worse. I canceled my train and also the train to leave Nainital for Delhi as my time in Nanital would be different now. I emailed my room in Nainital and changed the date for my arrival. I then went in search of a doctor that comes over from across the bridge to a little hole in the wall to dispense medicine. I felt reasonably sure that Tsugumi must have a parasite, ameba, or even geradia. The doctor agreed and gave me medicines. I brought them to Tsugumi and she began the treatment. Later back at my hotel I find that my room had not been rented so I moved back in. I would now be staying for 3 more nights. It has been agreed upon with Tsugumi that on the 4^th day I would be leaving and if she had not improved she would go to the good clinic run by a very good doctor.

It is time to leave the guesthouse and my new family. I am very sad. I walk a distance and look back to see Neema still watching me. I smile and wave… Down the road from the guesthouse I see the love sick black bull. We have talked about him a lot. He is in love with one of the cows that lives behind the fence. It is quite sad as he always goes to see his beloved everyday and night and never able to be with her. I go back to check on Tsugumi before I leave and it is very hard to leave her too. She is better though and this makes me feel better. I leave her and walk down the 3 flights of stairs only to decide I must go back up and leave my dear, new daughter a gift. Upon arrival to her room we exchange gifts and I am once again heading down the stairs.

For some reason my journal of notes ends here. I have no idea as of why this is so. There is no reason why I would quit taking notes, but seeing only blank pages before me now, I will do my best to remember the rest of my journey.

I follow the directions given to me by the place I have made new reservations at. I could not get a train, as they were all full. I would have to go by taxi to Nanital. I walk with my pack back across the Laxman-Juhla Bridge, looking down at the Ganga once again, feeling the fresh air over the river. I walk the winding streets to the spot where I am to catch the taxi. I wait for a long time and it never shows up. I ask questions in a shop and the man tells me to go down the street to the main area where all the cars are parked. I am scared, insecure. I walk all over the lot and cannot find the car.

A man comes over to help me and tells me to go across the street to another place. I go and tell them what I am looking for and what place has set up the transportation for me. Then the bad news comes. The person who has set up the taxi ride for me is known to cause many problems for tourists. I sit down and tears begin falling down my face. I do not know what to do. The men in the little room get up and offer me a chair. The man behind the desk speaks in Hindi to another man and then I am told that this man will take me to the police station. We get in the car and soon I am at the police station where he lets me off and does not accept a fee for his service.

In the police department I am approached by a few officers but am told to wait for their superior. When he comes I begin to relate my story but seems I am not getting through. The anxiety of having paid for my trip and the knowledge that I do not have enough money to pay again once again brings me to tears. I am at a loss. I do not know what to do. The Chief Officer asks me what I am crying about and that I am a grown woman and that there is no need for tears. Clearly he does not understand my situation. He then brings me into a room where we sit at a table and has me relate the whole story to him once again. He notices the tattoo on my wrist and asks if I know Krishna. We have a short endearing conversation about Krishna and at the end he makes phone calls. Soon he tells me that the taxi will be coming to the police station to pick me up. The officer asks if he may write to me and of course I say yes. He gives me his address and asks me to write. I was going to write and thank him but…in to avoid opening a door for involvement I never do write.

My taxi driver comes along with a friend who will go along with him on the trip. He is very nervous and is explaining to the officer what the problem had been. I do not remember what it was all about, I just remember getting in the taxi and feel greatly relieved that once again I am on my way.

Next to come: NANITAL

SIDE TRIP TO HARIDWAR AND THE KUMBHA MELA

SIDE TRIP TO HARIDWAR AND THE KUMBHA MELA

Today I have decided to take a trial run to Haridwar so that I would know my way around on April 14th when I go for the celebrations.

I take the long stairway up out of Rishikesh and then got a rickshaw to Haridwar, overcharged of course.

They dropped me off at Shanti Kunj and then I had to walk the rest of the way. It was very hot and I had not hat, glasses or umbrella. I don’t know how far I walked before I began to feel weak. But I just said to myself, “don’t think, just walk.” I kept this up till evidentially I knew I had to get out of the sun. I found a little spot on the bridge that was shaded and many Indians sitting under those trees on the other side of the railing of the bridge. I used my water to pour on my head and found it had become hot, but drank a bit, as I knew I needed it. After awhile I began to feel steadier and not so weak. Looking around I noticed that across the street on the other side of the bridge were some little stands selling chips etc. and thought I could find cool water. I also thought that this is the place I will recuperate at before turning around and heading back. I knew I would never be able to make it the distance that was before me to get to the center of where I wanted to be.

It was almost impossible to cross the street with all the traffic but a policeman saw me and came over and walked me across. Thank God for him!!! I followed the dirt path on that side of the bridge down to where I could see some trees and the little carts selling bananas and cucumbers. I bought some bananas and ate them, feeding the peels to a cow standing near me. He was grateful. I then began scanning the place for a restroom, but never did find one. In fact it was the end of the night at 9:30pm that I finally got to pee!!

After not finding a bathroom, I walked over to a pole and leaned against it to rest. I scanned the place for a place to sit on the ground that was not just dirt and also for some shade. I had only been standing a moment when a gentleman motioned for me to come over to him. I looked around to see if perhaps he was motioning to someone else, but no he was referring to me. I went over to him and he told me to sit in a chain next to him. These were the only few chairs in the whole area. It was perfect, a chair and in a shady spot. India has come to my rescue once again. The man then offered me some Chai tea which I did not want as I was cautious about the water. But in India it does not good to turn down Chai. So I accepted it but am slow to drink it. But as always they say,’ You finish your chai?” The gentleman is some official, I think with tourism. I never quite understood exactly what his position was. He is interesting and speaks English. I try to understand the things he is telling me but I only pick up bits and pieces here and there, and never enough to make much sense. I did understand when he told me,” India loves you.” Where did that come from? We were talking about something that caused me to bring my red book out (my notes and info. for India I had prepared before leaving the states). When I opened it he saw the picture of Maharaji and said,” May I see the picture, is that Neem Karoli Baba?” He took the book, placed his forehead on the picture and bowed his head in reverence.

We talked about meditation and unfortunately I missed it in translation, but I do remember him saying, ‘coming to the heart’. He also said something about me being Shanti Devi and this is interesting as Devi was brought to my mind before leaving the states, Shanti of course was presented to me when I was about 24-25 years old. In the same way as Devi came, out of the blue, as a flash in my consciousness. I was introduced as Shanti-Devi to others instead of Linda Smith as I had told him was my name.

Not to long after having had tea, yes I did finish it, he said to me,” Come with me.” So I got up and followed him. He mentioned something about having to do part of his job and that I was to assist him. How was I too assist him in doing his job? And would it mean having to leave my much needed shady spot? As it would turn out, it definitely meant leaving the comfort of the shade, and for a long time under the pounding India sun. The job he was referring to turned out to be leading a group of Sadhus and Babas to their camp for the Kumbha Mela. So there we were standing side by side behind two policemen on horses, which were also side-by-side. Soon the procession began and we started what would turn out to be another long walk. Another uniformed man approached him and asked if I was on duty! My new friend said yes I was on duty. So on we walked in and around the camps on the long, long road. Once he said to me, “we must hurry.” So I ran ahead of him with the bells on my ankles ringing. I looked back at him and hollered out in Hindi for him to hurry up. He ran to catch up with me and laughed and made a comment. Little did he know that I was about to fall over from that short burst of energy. He was only smiling saying that I was indeed Shanthi with the bells ringing from the anklets I wore on my ankles.

The Sadhus made it to their camp and we went on from there. I was thinking that we would return to the shady spot from which I had so reluctantly left. But this would not be the case. Finally we stopped at a little cart selling cups of ice-cream on the dirt road. It was rather funny to see this tiny cart in the middle of nowhere. He bought me an ice cream and then we proceeded on our walk, to who knows where…. Further down the road I began getting week again and he took my water bottle and poured water over my head, asking why I did not have an umbrella. It was simply because I did not know of the necessity of it, same reason for not bringing a hat. I know better now and those two items will be on my must bring list next time I come.

Eventually we came to the Ganga and a half tent with some people sitting around it. I noticed he spoke to someone and motioning to me saying something in Hindi and Shanti-Devi to the man. As I came closer I realized that the man he was talking to was a Naga Baba. A Naga Baba is a Sadhu that lives completely naked. The Naga Baba came over to me and pointed to a cloth on the ground and said,” Sit.” My new friend said he would return shortly and left me in the care of the Naga Baba. I sat on the cloth by the Ganga River, once again in the much-appreciated shade. Soon the Chai is starting to cook over the fire in front of me and my immediate thought, of course, is this water good? Or is this Ganga water!!!! But…. you do not say, “No thank you to a Baba!” That would be intensely rude and is just not done. So Ganga water or not the Chai was soon served in the traditional metal glasses at half full as to not burn your fingers. You hold the glass at the top where the boiling liquid has not been filled. The other method of serving Chai is the tiny clay cups which you smash on the ground when you are finished.

This Naga Baba was a devotee of Neem Karoli Baba, although Neem Karoli himself was not a Naga Baba. My new caretaker, the Naga Baba is clothed only in ash as is the custom. He wears numerous beads around his neck and bracelets and rings. He also wears a dark brown cowboy type hat with rukshaka beads covering the top and a glittery pin in front on the hat. Sticking from the top of the hat is a peacock feather. He carries the Neptune shaped spear of Shiva.

At one point some man starts a quarrel with him. Words fly back and forth but the guy is a real nuisance. The Sadhu gets up and starts wacking him with his stick. Police are there and gently try to get the ragging Saduh off the man. When the Saduh came back and took his seat next to me I wanted to say, “shanthi, shanthi”, to him but I did not want to get wacked with his stick….lol…. so instead I said to him, “Remind me to never get you mad at me!” That broke up all the negative energy and he started laughing. As a matter of fact it remained a joke throughout the afternoon.

Invited to partake of Chivras, (the smoking of marijuana) I turned it down because I in no way wanted to risk being put in jail and not seeing my children again. The Saduh frankly told me that as long as I was with him no trouble could befall me. But I remained resigned to not participate and was never asked again.

During the course of the afternoon many people came and left. Most were just there to pay their respects and leave donations and taking a bit of ash from the fire as a blessing. One German couple did come and smoke along with a few policeman. Guess I would been safe after all.

It was interesting to watch how the grass was prepared for smoking. A bud was taken, cleaned of stems and seeds, and then put in the palm of the hand with a few drops of water. Then it is rolled and mashed for quite a long time with the thumb of the other hand. Then this is put into the chillum and a small rag is put around the mouthpiece.

One Sakhu asks me, “ Are you a guru?” I cracked up laughing, me a guru?!!!! Far from it folks!

My seat is next to the Naga Baba and I realize not only am I the only westerner, but also the only woman. Perhaps it is a strange sight for the Indians as they come and stare at me and the ones sitting around have their eyes fixed on me.

Every now and then the Saduh would start making sounds with a little drum and a few minutes latter, take a long stick and wrap his penis around it and roll it up tight. Then he would squat with the long stick behind each knee. Every once in a while the stick would be wound tighter and pressed up higher under his knees and thighs.

One man came to touch the Sadhu’s foot and the Saduh removed his foot quickly so the man could not touch it. I have never seen this happen before nor have I ever heard of it. I can only think that for some reason the Sadhu was not granting his blessing.

At the end of the evening I told my friend I should be getting back to Rishikesh. I was first invited to stay at the tiny camp of the Saduh, which was very nice to have this offer, but with all the coming mosquitoes the experience was simply not worth it to my untrained mind. As things go, my uniformed friend from the bridge tells me that a friend of his was available to take me to where the buses and rickshaws do pick ups. I paid my respects, and said adieu to the Sadhu and his devotees of which I had spent most of the day with. Upon their request that I return I told them that it was indeed my plan on the 14^th. But I never did go back. I was too concerned about the heat and how sick I had become. So this day was my only experience of the Kumbha Mela, the main thing that got me serious about coming to India.

The walk to transportation was short…much appreciated, thank you…but the wait for a ride was long. I was very fortunate to have my friend’s, friend as a escort as I really do not know how I would have figured out what bus or auto rickshaw to take with the many rides that were passing by. Hundreds of people were standing along the roadside waiting for rides. It was dark before the right rickshaw came. My escort made sure I was on the right one and negotiated fare for me. It was great to see all the people hanging off the back, the sides of the rickshaws. I got a seat in the front. The ride was long as we kept going one way and then back the same way. I never knew why. But upon arrival in Rishikesh I was left off who knows where and then was charged more, of course. I asked the driver where the bridge that crosses over the Ganga was, because I had no idea of where I was. I was only pointed the direction out….ah well….One must always ask a few people and get the same answer a few times before believing anything. As Indians, will tell you anything to avoid saying that they do not know. I started walking down the long road and awhile latter an auto-rickshaw stops and says, “Get in”. I’m going to the bridge I tell him. Yes, yes, was the response. It turns out the bridge is about 20 minutes away by auto. I would never have made it with out the rickshaw, and especially that late at night on the road alone. Saved, once again. I never did flag down the rickshaw. It just stopped and the man said, get in. He did not ask me to, he just told me to. When he left me off, I meandered through the dark little streets. I see a little place where I can get a bottle of water and to pee!!! Finally!!! I have been holding it since the afternoon at the bridge where I met my friend who would ‘take care of my safety’. The men in the store were very nice. When I was leaving a man ran from behind the counter to the front door to open it for me. I continued my walk to the bridge. I was very happy to have my bearings once again. I crossed over the long Laxman-Jhula Bridge, which hangs suspended about the Ganga, to the other side, which is Laxman-Jhula and waked to my guesthouse and to my room. A hard day? You better believe it! But interesting and unforgettable…you bet!!

POST 6, RISHIKESH

Arriving at Rishikesh is not too difficult to know when to get off since everyone gets off. After getting off the bus I need to have aTuk tuk conference. It appears I still need to go though the bridge, 300 rupees. As it all turns out the main road was closed and we had to detour. Then a long walk in the heat leads me to an alley way of downward stairs, down, down, down, curving this way and that with tiny shops on each side of the narrow alley. and at last to the Great bridge itself.  There are tons of people everywhere due to the Kumbha Mela, but though I knew this, I could not have perceived just what this meant in India. Crossing the swing bring was great. High above the Ganga walking across in the midst of hundreds of Indians, the colors, the smells carried on the breeze over the water was inspiring. I exit the bridge and follow the little road around until a spot a little coffee shop! Wow!  I am dripping wet, tired and have no idea of where I am going or for that matter where I need to go. So this is a welcome layover. Air conditioning!! I relax over a great cappuccino, enjoying the cold air and away from the hordes of people and heat. I see that it does not need much thinking to know that I will be spending time here everyday.

After about an hour and a half I realize that sitting in the coffee shop is not going to get me a room.  I have a phone number and guess I could start with that for info. But where is a phone? It would be as hard finding a phone as it would be finding a room. I am worried that because of all the people passing through it may be hard finding a room plus the prices could be jacked up. What will happen? What will happen? Got that scared feeling again. Insecurity is taking hold. I do not know what to do other than walk down the street looking for a place to stay. I gather up my bag and step back out into the hot sun.

As I was leaving the coffee shop and, stepping on to the street, I notice a girl a couple feet away from me is turning to go into the coffee shop. It looked as if she had just stepped out of the wall but as I took a few more steps I saw a door with a sign for a restaurant, but better yet, printed on the sign said, Hotel Surya. Well this is convenient, just 2 steps outside of the coffee shop! So I headed up the stairs to the 3^rd floor where the reception area was. I approached the man at the desk and asked for a single. He leads me to a door in the hall and opens it. I did not even go in I just said, How much? When he replied 250 rupees I just took it for 2 nights and was GREATLY relieved.  The reality is that it could have been a lot more, but also 150 rupees above my budget. But now I could go and look for something cheaper. Only a few moments ago I was stressed and wondering how I would find a place. India has come to my rescue once again! Little did I know as I sat in the coffee shop that my future room was actually in the same building just above my head.

I left all my stuff in the room then headed out in search for another place. As I passed the reception area I see a lovely Japanese lady sitting on the couch. Her name is Tsugumi. We struck up a conversation pretty quickly and we were both delighted that we were both staying at the same place. We plan on visiting with each other at a latter date. I went down the 3 flights of stairs (why am I always on the third floor) onto the streets of Laxman Jhula in search of a cheaper place. This search took almost 2 1/2 hours. It would be boring to go into details but the Surya Hotel is the best thing going. I had wanted to stay at Ananda guesthouse. I had been planning on for months, but Arjun said there was no room but to contact him when I got here and if there was still no room he would help me find a place. But I did not know how I was going to contact him. I would have to walk and search for him.

 I had been walking down the street and there are many little stalls selling wares and I had not stopped at any, then this one tiny one caught my eye selling blank writing books. I talked to the guy that was working and ended up telling him the story of my quest for the ananda guesthouse and how I had been in contact with the owner for some months etc. He looked at me in surprise and said, “My brother is the owner of that guest house.” To my surprise I pulled out the phone number for him to see and he said yes, that is the number. He said it would be impossible to see him now as he was in a yoga class, but that he would talk with his brother for me and I would come back the next day and he would tell me what his brother had to say.

What are the chances of all the tons of little shops that I would have chosen the one that was family with Ajun and his guesthouse? Yet, it should not be a surprise as this is the way things seem to go in India. But…. as though it would seem to me to be a very promising thing, since I actually ran into Argun’s brother, the accommodation would not be available. If I would like to stay there it seems I will have to make reservations some months in advance. I was a bit sad at learning this.

I continued my walk all the way to the second bridge, which leads to Ram Jhula. The places of accommodations were not better than Laxman-Jhula. Besides there is way more noise over here. While exploring Ram Jhula it came to my awareness that I could hear something. Though it was faint and seemed to come and go, I began to listen more intently. Underneath the intense noise of the people, jeep horns and motorcycles buzzing everywhere the familiar sound became more audible in the midst of the clamor of the street. I began following the sound and it guided me toward a little stall of wares. Now it was very clear…it was KD! They were playing one of his cd’s. Absolutely perfect!

While walking back across the bridge over the Ganga my rudshacakra bead bracelet got caught on the sari of a lady and broke apart. Beads went everywhere. With the huge crowds of people crossing the bridge I chanced being run over as I recovered about a dozen of the beads, the rest falling below into the Ganga.  I guess if I am to loose the beads what better place could I have chosen to relinquish them.

They have little stands that sell lemon mineral water and it is interesting to see how they are served. There are many bottles on display, all of which have been frozen. Resting on top of the neck of the frozen bottles of mineral water rested a whole small lemon or lime. These displays are quite eye-catching. They are also selling cookies that are cooked right on the street cart. There is also popcorn and ice cream for sell on wooden carts as are all the other offerings of food and drink. All these things are new for me to see.

This morning at the coffee shop I speak with a pretty blond Russian. She is staying at an ashram that I would love to have stayed at. I have seen pictures of it. But this trip it is more than I can afford and it is quite a ways from town, which end up costing me even more with transportation fees. But it was too expensive for me this visit. It is a very beautiful place up the Ganga in a lush green area with beach. It is very peaceful there. If I ever come back this is one of the places I would aim for.

The cappuccinos at the coffee house below the hotel are excellent. The froth is always very thick and lasts past the last drop of coffee. Within the thick froth is a swirled heart.  Starbucks, take some lessons!!! A bit expensive at $1.00 a cup but this will turn out to be my treat every morning during my stay here. I sit outside, although there is great air conditioning inside. But I love that outside I am close to the passing crowds of people. I love to watch the people and I get a great view here every morning. The crowds of people are growing every day as the Kumbha Mela auspicious days draw nearer. People are traveling hundreds and some thousand of miles to be here. Literally millions of people traveling on foot walk the days and sleep wherever they find themselves at night. It is a great site to see. It is estimated that 2-3 million people will pass this coffee shop on the narrow little street during my stay. Forget trying to imagine what this would look like. If you have never been to India your mind has no idea of how to picture this.

On the street I see lots of cucumbers everywhere, peeled and displayed. This is a new sight. Also there is sugarcane ready to be juiced.

This evening I eat at Lucky’s as it is close to the Surya. It was the usual plate of grease. I am really tired of that. Just want some food minus the grease.

The next evening I find a nice little restaurant called the Ganga View. The kitchen is open and faces the street. The eating area is through the kitchen to the back. How nice…as it overlooks the Ganga. A great view. I like this place. Now….hmmmm…. the food…will it be more grease?

I had an open-faced sandwich with lots of yak cheese. It was oily but I think it came from the cheese.  I will give this place another try tomorrow evening.

A man walked up to me on the street today and said, “I schizophrenic”. I just looked at him as he repeated it a few more times….what is up with this? Every time he said it, it sounded like the same person to me (!) so I just continued on my way. Weird.

The monkeys here look different. Instead of the usual brown they are gray with black faces. The streets are clean for the most part and I even saw, of all things, a garbage can!!!

Yesterday I sat on a curb off the road and a cow standing a ways off saw me then came over and stood sideways right in front of me. He then turned his head around and just watched me. I talked to him and it almost seemed he enjoyed it. Then today I sat down again in a different place and another big cow came over and put his head on my lap!!!!! Is this a usual thing? I scratched him behind his ear and when I stopped he would push on the side of my lap with his head. It was so funny and quite cute. It was just like a dog.

A lovely woman with dark curly hair sits down at my table at the Ganga View restaurant. After awhile she introduces herself, Katatrina from Greece. We talk for a while and I know we are instant buddies. But as things go while you are traveling you do not get to hang out with people you hit it off with, all the time. Katatrina will be leaving soon. But she invites me to coffee in the morning.  Words I remember that rang in my ear as she spoke were: The mind plays tricks. Meditation is very important. The mind must be strong and exact in what you want. It was as if it was on purpose she came and spoke with me. The meditation place she told me about is the same one I had considered going to but decided I did not think I was up to sitting for 10 hours a day yet. She was quite animate about it however. This is on my must do list next time I come.

It appears you can get almost anything done on the street here. One man sits on a bucket and gets a shave. Another one sits on a bucket by a sign that reads, “Best ear cleaning”, as another man swabs his ears with a long Q-tip.

At bedtime there is a dog that starts barking unceasingly. Other dogs join in but eventually they give up as this first dog can outlast all of them!

Met a couple from Israel. I like what the man said about India, “It’s a nicer jungle. They are only after your money, not like in other places where they steal and harm you.” Guess I should have told him about my shoes.

This morning I got up and went to check on another guesthouse, hotel. For the price difference it is way better. Very nice, pretty and clean. It is only $1.00 more a day.

Ran into Tsugumi as I was going to move my things to my new place. We ended up spending the day together and having dinner. Then we went for a walk. Tsugumi is 32 and has been to 31 countries. She lived 1-½ years in Paris. She is a reiki master and does energy work. I must say she is showing me some surprising things. She has studied with Buddhist monks. Her hair is just now beginning to grow out as she had her head shave while living at the monastery.

 Her first trip was to India when she was a teenager. She snuck away on school break for 3 weeks. Later she did it again. However, on her 3^rd trip her parents caught her, but she had already paid for everything. Her parents saw the brochures for Thailand but did not realize she was also heading for Cambodia.

I love this: Tsugumi and I gave rupees to an old toothless beggar and when he saw we had given him several coins he gave a wide smile and mimed a clown. He was very expressive as if to say,” This is great!” I wish I had a video of it. He was hilarious and very enjoyable. His laughter was infectious.  We will run into him more times and will get many laughs.

On our way to Parmenth Niketan for the Aarti, Tsugumi and I run into an old Baba that does not speak, by choice, and is well known to the area. He is known simply as Mango Baba as he lives beneath a mango tree. He was sitting on the ground with a small pot of food. Tsugumi said when she saw him she always gave him something. She had 2 cucumbers with her and offered them to him and he was very thankful. I only gave 10 rupees, which I was ashamed of but it all happened so fast. I felt bad all the way to Parmeth and decided tomorrow I would go back and find him and give him more. But it seemed he likes the food better than the money so I will bring him some food instead.

After the Aarti we went to dinner at a restaurant that had absolutely no food…seriously….no food. So we went to another place and upon entering, Tsugumi recognized a man sitting at a table. We joined him. He is Korean. Tsugumi had met him earlier. We had an evening of laughs and good food.

My ears are unsure if they have heard correctly. The Dalai Lama would be in town tomorrow at Paramenth Niketan. He will be at the Aartie and then give a talk. I can hardly believe it! I am going to get to see the Dalai Lama. Out of the clear blue this news comes to me.

Upon our walk back to town after dinner, in the dark, Mango Baba showed up on the road before us with folded hands in Namaste. As we held our palms together to our forehead he took our hands between his hands in prayer form. Then he simply pointed for us to go our way and he pointed back to his place that he would be going back there. It was a beautiful experience.

Still further down the road 4 or 5 guys pass us going in the opposite direction. They were all excited and chatting excitedly. Only moments latter a bull came running down the path heading in the direction of the men. It was hilarious. We stopped and looked back at the bull still on the run with a real purpose in his stride. I wonder why the bull was so intent on catching those guys!!! Later we see 3 bulls going bonkers with each other and still latter one was chasing another one. What was up with the cows tonight!!

We walked off the road and up to the Ganga and listened to the rushing of the water and felt the wind blowing which was a welcome relief from the heat of the day. While we were standing there a man started talking. We looked around to see where the voice was coming from but we saw no one. The we realized he was lying on the ground in bed. He invited us over and the Korean man was talking to him about the number of saddus in the area because of the Kumbha. As the Korean man and Tsugumi were in conversation with the man on the ground another man woke up and I sat next to him. He was a thin man with a long white beard that shown in the moonlight. I asked him if he was a sadduh. He said he was and I asked how long he had been one and he answered that he was now 60 years old and had left home when he was just 17. He told me the story of his life on the farm and being looked at by his family as dull headed because he had so many questions……….What is life all about? At 4 years old he was questioning if we all must die since his grandmother had recently died suddenly. How were we to do what was important about our lives considering that we spend x amount of time brushing our teeth, x amount of time working and x amount of time sleeping etc. So he left with his questions to find the answers that he sought when he was 17. When asked where he lived by the Korean man, he said he did not live anywhere but moved around all the time and always slept under the stars. So is the life of a sadduh. I was talking with him when another man in a white robe walked up through the darkness. I was introduced to this man, being someone of importance. I do not remember what was said. This new man then began talking to me. He asked about my ‘story’ of coming to India and I gave him my quick version. Something was said that brought tears to my eyes and I apologized for it and that it was just that I was happy because there was something inside of me that was so beautiful that when something on the outside matched what was on the inside it always brought tears. The man said,’ It’s just a glimpse of the Divine Consciousness”. Then the Korean man said we had to go, as it was late and beginning to rain. The man spoke out to me offering an invitation to return. But by tomorrow I knew they would be off on their journey and I did not know if I would be able to make it back before they left. As it turned out they were gone when I passed that way again.

The next evening Tsugumi and I make the long walk back to Parmenth Nikiton to see the Delhi Lama. But once there we find out that it was going to be the next night instead. Another long walk home.

The next night we venture back to Parmenth Nikiton hoping that this time would be more successful. Once there we became part of the huge mob of people waiting to see the Delhi Lama. We waited in the mob for well over an hour. We were squished like sardines in a can. And that is putting it lightly! I have never experienced being in such a crowd where everyone is jammed together with no way to get your arm up to even scratch your nose!  And the heat only added to the discomfort of waiting in the crowd.

After the event I had the extreme pleasure of seeing the Dalai Lama pass in front of me. The crowd was there of course but my position allowed me a full view up close. I was so grateful for the experience.

We left Nikiton and went to Gita Bhaghu Ashram and just sat where people pay their respects to the Deities. People were asking Tsugumi if I was her mother!!! Do I look Japanese to them?

On our walk back to our hotels we stopped by Mango Baba and brought him some gifts. As always he never let anyone leave emptied handed. He always gave something in return.

Upon leaving Mango Baba we encounter men carrying a white bound body from the brush and river and loaded him into a car.

I need to practice silence more and not speak so much about my thoughts, especially where they concern myself.

We arrive late back to our hotels and were able to get in.

Today I went on a lovely walk in nature through the tress and down to the Ganga. It was really beautiful. I went in the Ganga up to my thighs and splashed water on myself but the water was icy. I lie on the rocks and read for a while then dozed off for a few minutes. It was a nice 3 ½ hours.

I came to a realization. I have been saying to myself and to others that I would not have experienced such fear and anxiety on my trip if I had had more money. Like at the train stations and missing the one. I could not have gotten a hotel and waited for another train. I would be left at the train station to whenever, the next day. But I also tell how each time I was saved from the problem. Now I see that I have been placing my security on money rather than the care of God. He has taken care and provided quick solutions immediately to every problem I have had.  Why does God seem to be so more alive and real in India than in the states?

Ehhh….I spent the whole day in bed today. I must have eaten something bad. Fortunately I never threw up but I was down the whole day, except for changing rooms at the guesthouse. I changed because the sun came into my room too much and made it very hot. I moved across to the other side and it was much better.

For the untrained mind, solitude and no one to talk to, nothing to read or do or to listen to can be very disturbing. It is far to hot today to venture out so I am sharing company with the, ‘nothing’. As humans we depend so much on the outer world experienced through our senses. It appears we are addicted to chaos.

The bulls here are so huge that their butts are taller than my head!!

Next to come is my day trip to the Kumbha Mela at Haridwar and then back to Rishikesh.

POST 5, DEHRA DUN

DEHRA DUN

Got a tuk tuk 150 rupees and headed for Shiva Bala yogi ashram. Dehra Dun is quite different. First of all it is clean!! At least the area that I was in. It is quite pretty. Green trees are everywhere, pretty flowers all along the road and the ashram is just full of beautiful colors and smells. The weather is a lot cooler too! The trees help a lot of course. One of the Beatles wrote a song about Dehra Dun but it was never released though they popularized it.

I have the dormitory all to myself and it has a big fan! My bed is next to a huge open window, plus nights are cooler. What an incredible change from the tiny sweatbox with the tiny fan with not much power. I do not think I could have stood another night in the heat. Plus the heat exhausting days when there is no electricity.

All the room had been given out already as a special event is coming up. The remembrance date of Shiva Bala Yogi Maha Samadhi. They had forgot about me as my email was 2 months ago. But everything has worked out nicely. The only thing wrong with my room is everyone can see inside because of the many glass windows, which look out into the hallway.

Oh, I also lost my water bottle holder, must have left it on the train when I jumped up so fast to get off. I really liked that holder, had it for years.

My first day here I had a great multi bucket shower with hot water. Washed my hair, and 2 pieces of clothing. A western toilet that looks like it could be converted to an Indian toilet if you want to climb on it. And the bathroom does not smell.

I was so overjoyed I went to the market and bought 2 big papayas, a huge bunch of bananas and 2 K of oranges plus 2 bags of peanuts and a large bag of almonds for the ashram. To get back to the ashram I got in one tuk tuk and waited, then the guy asked me to get into another one. So off I went with my bags and climbed in the other one. Then I completely missed my stop because I could not see.

Once back to the ashram I was told to put all the food in front of Baba’s alter for blessing. Then I went for a walk. It was so pretty and inspiring. The weather is fresh and it so open in contrast to Varanasi. Even the traffic is normal but no trash on the road is the big one.

Back at the ashram I walk towards the back and meet a man that begins talking to me. I let him listen to KD on the mp3 player and he smiles, he really likes it. We sit down under a tree in the back of the ashram. He tells me he is there to keep the monkeys away from the drying clothes and grains, which were lain on cloth on the ground for drying. He has two sticks-- yep the sticks again! Monkey sticks! His wife joins, then a few young boys. One of the boys speaks some English so this helps a lot. The man has been here for 20 years. He came when he was 16 and then met his wife 2 years later. He asked me if there are Indian people in the USA.

There was a noise in the bushes so I yelled out, “Monkeys, get the stick!” Then 2 men appeared and everyone started laughing except for the curious men that turned out not to be monkeys! They were either government officials of some kind or related to the military-----oopps!!! They lived in the big white house that was just in back of the ashram and directly in front of us. They came up to see who the English speaking person calling them monkeys was.

For the next 1-½ hours the jokes were flying, the wives of the men came out, the kids came out and we had a real gathering with much laughter. Naturally conversation came up about the difference between westerners and Indians. I told my view and a girl about 13 said, “In India we try to enjoy every little thing we do.” Then I talked with her about the importance of never loosing the child’s heart. At a very young 13 this girl knew full well what I meant.

Later that evening Babaji (who was a student and devotee of Shiva Bala Yogi) came out and played harmonium as we sang. He also sang Jai Hanuman Bugarungee. I had the feeling it was for me! He is a lovely man peaceful face, long white beard.

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The night was not as cool as I had hoped. Perhaps part of it was due to the fact that I had to wear clothes because of my see-through room.

This morning has brought with it a deep missing of my children once again. So much so that it is very difficult to keep back the tears. It is hard to imagine ever being away from them again.

Today I will help in the kitchen. I am hoping it will help with this unexpected case of homesickness. I also change rooms. My new room is cooler and more private, although very large with 3 beds (although I am the only one staying in the room) plus it’s own bathroom with western toilet and hot water bucket shower. Lots of windows, but with curtains.

I leave tomorrow for Rishikesh. I stay an extra day here as the celebration of Shiva Bala Yogi’s Maha Samadi is tomorrow. There will be many people coming. Today we worked on decorating for the big celebration. We worked with stringing flowers and malas. We decorated the whole room and the beautiful wooden posted bed that was Baba’s. A very large picture of him hung between the wooden poles of the bed, on the wall. It too was strung with beautiful flowers. It was very lovely but no photos allowed of course.

The celebration was very nice with lots of food. It was really nice to talk with some of the people. I have enjoyed it here but tomorrow morning I will be leaving.

When the evening came we all gathered on the terrace to listen to Baba speak and answer questions. I was able to ask Babaji about meditation. So glad!

Tomorrow morning I will be leaving. It is time to go through my pack and get rid of some things. I have carried a small green pack and when it gets too full I take things out and leave for other people. I left things behind in Varanasi and I will leave my black pants behind here. I can live with even less as my trip is much closer to the end that the beginning.

From the ashram I waited on the side of the road for the tuk tuk. Once one actually stopped I was told that I was on the wrong side of the street. I did ask where to catch the tuk tuk and this is the place I was told to wait. So I crossed the street and began my wait all over again. Once the tuk tuk stopped I asked for the bus station for Rishikesh. My driver said yes, so I am finally on my way. After awhile I was told to get off and then on to a different tuk tuk. Finally I am left off at a busy cross street. I am confused and explained I need the bus station but the driver just pointed forward and said, “Bus”. So I got off and started walking. Tension begins to mount. I am not at a bus station. I stand by a bridge with a lot of people. Buses are coming and going so I guess this is good.

Every bus that comes by I run up to and say “Rishikesh” the answer is always’ no, no.’ I lug my pack off the road. Its is hot out in the sun and my energy level is running out, right along with the water my body is giving up to the Indian sun. Then something happens. A man asks, “Where are you going”? I am instantly renewed. Rishikesh-----and he motions with his hand to just, relax and wait. Another bus approaches, ‘Rishikesh’? No, he motions for me to wait. Finally a bus comes and he points and says, Rishikesh. I reaffirm with him making sure I have it right. Yes it is!

It is difficult to get on and I have to more or less launch myself, and in the process I rip my sleeve on a piece of metal. Clothes do not last long here, at least for me. Just have to be holey in a Holy land. I am on the bus….finally. This has been a very stressful time. (Standing on the street at an intersection, watching buses coming and going and wondering if my bus will ever come. And what if it doesn’t? It is very hot and no shelter anywhere. I will not forget to bring a hat and or an umbrella my next trip). If it had not been for the man that asked me where I was going I would still be standing there!

POST 4, THE ANCIENT CITY OF VARANASI

VARANASI

From the land of Radha-Krishna, the Land of Love, I arrive at the ancient city of Varanasi.

Often referred to as Benares, Varanasi is the oldest living city in the world. These few lines by Mark Twain say it all: "Benaras is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend and looks twice as old as all of them put together". Hindus believe that one who is graced to die on the land of Varanasi would attain salvation and freedom from the cycle of birth and re-birth. Shiva is the predominate worshiped God. Although Hinduism may appear to have many gods, this is only the outer appearance. The many gods are actually manifestations, qualities or characteristics of the One God.

Arriving here was not without the usual stress. Add to this the fact that I had gotten sick and was hardly functioning.

I took a ‘tuk tuk’ to the Mathura train station. (Those much dreaded two words, ‘train station’.) I ask my usual questions and get my usual answers, so I pick a place to wait next to the tracks and hope for the best. I put my pack down on the cement next to the tracks and laid my head upon it. I watched each train come with its number on the front of the engine. I knew I was on the right platform as the man at the station told me platform one, but of course where to get on the correct car of the train was as usual, unknown. After two hours of laying my head on my backpack and watching trains come and go I became concerned enough to start asking questions once again. My time was limited as after I got to Agra I had to catch the 9:50 pm train to Varanasi. I ask an older man if he knew anything about the train I needed, as I pointed to my ticket. ‘No English, no English,’ comes the reply. I put my hands over my eyes and face trying to get a grip on things, as I was feeling quite bad. While my hands were over my eyes I heard a voice say, ‘

Can I help you?” I lowered my hands to find that the old man had left and in his place stood a young man. I was so grateful to hear English I immediately asked about my train. He looks at my ticket and then speaks to someone. He turns back to me and says, “ Train left.” How is this possible! I watched every train come and go and never saw it. I simply had to be on that train because I have to catch a connecting train in Agra and I am running late now. What am I going to do? I am panicked. This may seem silly to some because if you miss a train you just get a hotel room and make reservations for another day. Unfortunately doing that would make it a real burden on my limited budget. Buying another ticket for this train would not be all the trouble for I would also have to rebook my connecting train in Agra and possibly hotel room there. I would also have to get ahold of the place I would be staying in Varanasi and tell them I would be late. I should mention here that trains fill up very fast. I made my reservations 2 months in advance! That is how fast they book up. Of course this is what the young man advised. He told me to go in and buy another ticket, as another train would be coming through today going to Agra. The problem here is that it would make me too late to catch my connecting train. Next thing the young man said to me was, “No time for buy another ticket, train will be here in 5 minutes”. What!!! But the young man has good news for me. He tells me to just get on the train general class and when they come by for my ticket show them the ticket that I have and explain that I missed the last train and would like to purchase a ticket now…no worry he tells me general class will be cheap.

The train comes but I don’t know where to get on, so I just get on the train not caring anymore if I am in the right place or not. I just want on. Entering the car I find it to be almost empty. There are just a few men. I was expecting having to deal with the multitudes and this is a relief as I am forcing myself at this point to function.

The man comes by to take my ticket. As I had my ticket and passport to him I start trying to explain everything to him. He says a few things in Hindi and I just go back to explaining in English. The man just looks at me, hands me back my ticket and passport and walks away! Amazing. I am so thankful to just be able to put my pack down, sit down and just be still, if only for a short time. The group of men I was sitting with was so kind as to let me know when it was my stop to get off. What a huge relief… Times like this I cannot express how grateful I am.

After getting off the train at Agra Cant station, I catch a taxi to Agra fort station. I would normally not have taken a taxi but I was more or less guided in that direction. Add to this the way I was feeling and my anxiety about missing the next train it just seemed to be the correct thing to do at this point.

Upon arrival at Agra fort station as I was getting out of the taxi my driver and another man that was with him introduced me to an old man that for 100 rupees would take me to a waiting area where I could sit until he came to get me to bring me to my train when it was time. Where have these people been in the past? How much anxiety this would have relieved. Of course this would not have happened if it had not been for the men in the taxi introducing me and translating all the info. This was exactly what I needed at the right moment. I do not know how I would have done this on my own. For sure I would have missed the train, as I will explain shortly.

The old man takes me to a room where I will wait for the train to come. I sit, it seems for a long time. The train is running late. All the worry about missing it had not been necessary. Much better to wait than be late. Then the old man comes and tells me it is time. We walk to the platform where my train will arrive. As usual there is a lot of Hindi being spoken over the speakers and all of a sudden the old man jumps up and begins walking away from me quickly. I assume I am to follow so I get up and start to follow him. He turns around and waves at me as if I am to stay and sit. So I do. Then again it seems I am to follow and again he waves at me and I sit down again. Finally some people that are sitting next to me, tell me with excited hand gestures to get up and go now! So not knowing what is going on, I jump up and begin to follow him. He is walking really fast and it is very difficult to keep up with this thin old man. As it turned out they had switched platforms for my train. We had to high tail it up stairs and on to another platform. I fell on the stairs, exhausted. I just could not keep up. He grabbed my pack and moved ahead fast. Relieved of my extra weight I followed in tow. He took me onto the train and even to my berth where I happily paid him the 100ruppees. The truth is: I would never have made that train if it were not for him and the one who orchestrated the whole event. A 12-hour train ride will turn out to be 17 hours. I just tried to rest and hacked and coughed all to the color of green. The gentleman I shared the berth with was an older man with long white beard, a small man in build, with a white turban and a dark brow cloth covering the top of this turban and hanging loosely around his face and neck. He was reading from a very old book whose weaved binding was worn thin. The pages were of a tarnished antique look. I would have loved to talk with him, for sure this man was a scholar and I feel I missed a chance for a very enlightening conversation. As we were getting off the train I helped him with one of his bags and looked at me in the eyes with much appreciation and humbleness and said something in Hindi, which of course I did not understand.

Once off the train I just looked for the exit and my pick-up. I am really glad that someone will be picking me up. I struggled up more stairs. I kept repeating ‘pick up’ to all guys who were trying to sell me a ride in taxis, tuk tuks, and rickshaws. Making it outside I looked around and there was no one with a sign with my name on it. One of the red coated porter guys hung on to me from inside despite my repellant words of ‘pick-up. I was just walking with my bag looking for my pick-up. Then he got my attention with,’ You should go to the tourist info office’, pointing to a tiny office in the corner. He could tell I was looking for someone and was not finding them. I put down my bag in the little office and waited my turn. Quite soon I was giving the man at the desk the phone number of the place where I would be staying. He called the guest- house and spoke to the person on the other end of the line. He hung up and told me that they were already at the station and would come for me at the tourist office. Not long after a man came to get me. Once again a hassle was removed from my path. But it wasn’t over. I picked up my pack and followed the man for quite a distance to his tuk tuk. Once on the tuk tuk it was smooth riding, much different than in Vrindavan where you were pounded so hard my teeth chattered. The man parked the tuk tuk on a street side and I got out with my bag and followed the man down the street and then another street. To my alarming surprise we were not at the guesthouse. Not by a long shot. The walk would be quite a ways yet. We meandered down one street then another, then another. I was lagging way behind yet trying to keep my eyes on him. We weaved our way in and out through the throngs of people. I was giving it my best to keep up. Fear of loosing the man in the crowd was up most in my mind. Finally the man realized what a hard time I was having and he grabbed my bag as we started a crooked path uphill. We were in a maze of tiny alleyways bursting at its seams with people. Finally turning a corner in the tiny narrow alley, I heard my name being called. I was finally there. Greetings were made and some small talk. My hosts could see that I was sick and within an hour a doctor was called to come and see me. Remembering this I am still so grateful to these people for helping me in this time of need.

A very refined intelligent looking man came to examine me. I was led to a near by room and upon the bed of my hosts, as my room was upstairs, this being more convenient. He spoke with me through translation by my hosts. The doctor wrote out 4 prescriptions for me. The 5th one, my hosts already had to fix for me. It was such a wonderful feeling to be in a sanctuary, a haven of comfort for a very weary soul. I had a bad case of bronchitis and infection. My belongings were taken up to my room and I followed. At last I could rest across a much-needed bed. My host went out to get my prescriptions and latter arrived to tell me how to take them and that he would soon go out for the last prescription, as the other places he had gone were out of it. He followed up on making sure I had taken everything just right. He was very kind and caring. He did all of this for me as he would do for anyone else, simply because the need was there. I was humbled and very grateful for his graciousness. I have found that there are many, many times in India that this wonderful feeling would visit me.

There are three sticks by the front door of the guesthouse. (This door is open from morning till about 11pm.) One stick is quite long and made of bamboo. This is the cow stick. The next is perhaps 2/3 as long as the cow stick and is a bunch of switches bound together. This is the dog stick. The last of the three is heavy being about two feet long and 2/2 . This is the monkey stick. These sticks are kept by the doorway and are for the purpose of using on the appropriate animal when being a nuisance in the alley way or trying to come in the front door.

While talking by the door we all heard a loud sound. We looked up to see a cow running past the door, followed by a man in tow holding onto the cows tail! It was hilarious as we all broke into laughter, as the man’s feet were way before his head as he was leaning back trying to stop the cow. I would love to have taken a picture of this but like so many times the shot will only be engraved upon the mind, as things happen too fast.

Standing in the doorway I was petting the cows as they poked their heads inside. The cows are like dogs, once you stop petting them they want more. Today a white cow stopped to look in and once again I wish I had my camera. A beautiful pure white cow was wearing a wreath of beautiful brightly colored flowers in red, yellow and orange. Around his horns he wore ribbons and flowers.

I will not leave the guesthouse for three days, until I am feeling better. But this does not keep me from experiencing Varanasi, for Varanasi is coming to me as I sit in the doorway watching it pass before me like a movie.

I engage in fun conversation with my hosts Monu, Indue and her husband. I met tourists and other Indian people. I am introduced to the guys next door. They work at a little shop selling cloth and clothes. They also have a tailor on site, the sewing machine in the front window.

I like to walk up to the roof- top in the evenings. I was surprised to see what I first thought were birds, or bats, but as I watched I realized that there were hundreds of tiny kites without tails, which would bend in the middle a little, and causing them to flutter. It was really something, everywhere as far as I could see above the roof- top for this 5,000-year-old city, were these tiny fluttering kites against yellow-orange sky of the setting sun. This happens almost every evening.

Coming down from the rooftop one day, while I am recuperating, I go to my room only to find a monkey in there. I hollered at him and he turned to run to the doorway as I was telling him to get out. He certainly did not like it very much but he did leave, rather pissed off. That’s why you have to keep your door closed anywhere where there are monkeys because they will come in and steal whatever they want.

Met a girl from Japan, Macke today and we exchanged conversation. I will visit with her a few times before she leaves Varanasi.

A word of advice if you are ever in Varanasi, do not wear shoes that have the grooves in the soles. Make sure the soles have smooth surface. The reason for this is that there are many animals on the alleyways, therefore lots of shit. If you step in it, or I should say ‘when’ you step in it is you are wearing shoes other than smooth bottom, the shit will go into every crease and it is no fun getting it out. How do I know… experience of course.

On the fourth day I venture out of the guesthouse for the first time. The alleyways here are like a maze. Some are so narrow I cannot stand and stretch my arms out to the sides without touching the buildings on each side. The whole place is like this. It can be very easy to get lost. There are no names for the alleyways either. In the dark it is a real problem as everything is pitch black. Cows lie down to sleep blocking the path and you have to turn around and figure another route to get to where you want to go. A Flashlight is a must have, especially if you want to see where you are stepping.

I was very careful, marking spots to remember where to turn so I could find my way back. I came upon the market area, with their brightly colored items on both sides of the alleyways. Looked like Disney land. Each merchant trying to lure you in to buy his wears. To walk down the streets sometimes you can walk side by side with someone and other times you must walk in single file as the alleyways become to narrow. Then just to mess with your mind cows are there….How? Where do all these cows come from? The alleys are stone, with stone buildings on each side. There is no grass or anything growing anywhere. They must just reproduce and spend their life walking through the alleys. Food is very difficult for them. They feed off the trash if they are lucky. It is very sad to see them eating plastic bags

A word of advice if you are ever in Varanasi, do not wear shoes that have the grooves in the soles. Make sure the soles have smooth surface. The reason for this is that there are many animals on the alleyways, therefore lots of shit. If you step in it, or I should say ‘when’ you step in it is you are wearing shoes other than smooth bottom, the shit will go into every crease and it is no fun getting it out. How do I know… experience of course.

One day I found myself on the soapbox. I was speaking with one of the military police. We got into a conversation about Indian people versus American people. Before I had realized it a whole group of people had gathered around us. I was explaining how the Indian people as a whole seem more balanced between their heads and hearts. It is all too common for the American to think of himself first and latter wonder why the world it the way it is. The Indian people just seem basically thankful and more at peace.

I met the guy staying in the room next to mine. His name is Zak and is very interesting to talk with. He told me a funny story about getting back to the guesthouse a few nights ago after dark. Said he stepped in cow shit twice and came upon a cow lying in the alley. He had said he just stood there for a moment, rather quizzically thinking,’ this is big cow’! If it were a dog He could step over him but this cow was just too big to step over so he had to go back and figure out another way through the maze.

Zak has been traveling throughout Asia of nine and a half years. He teaches English and has taught in China, Korea and Japan to name a few. His travels have taken him to far places. He has used every mode of transportation available. Jumping on ships for some longer journeys. His latest venture, this one will take him a total of one and a half years. He will then begin teaching once again in another country before setting out for new horizons.

Found a nice little Japanese restaurant. I had vegetable tempura with a great sauce. Still oily though as this is a common thing here in India.

Sometimes I wonder if there are lost tourists that have been wondering the maze for years!

I went next door to the tailor to exchange money and ended up drinking Chi tea with them and chatting while sitting on floor. It seems that there has been some trouble with counterfeit bills lately and has caused a hassle in trading. A twenty-dollar bill yields you a lower exchange rate. Hundred dollar bills will give you the best exchange rate. I will spend a lot of time here at the tailors/store visiting, as they have become like family, as of course, my hosts next door.

Leaving my friends at the store I wind my way through the alleys toward the market place of the old city. I am expanding my horizons. This place is something that is not even seen in the movies or in pictures as no cameras are allowed. I would suppose however, that someone at some time must have snapped some shots of it.

At the market place I found a great place for bangles. I entered the store not knowing what adventure this will end up leading me on. Before purchasing I asked the man if they shipped and he said yes. After spending time picking through what seemed like thousands of bangles, I paid for them. Now I find out they do NOT ship. I am told where the post office is so that I may ship them myself.

The venture got me out past the arches onto the main street. Now the street is wide, like one would expect in a city. Without much trouble I find the post office. The man behind the counter told me to wait just five minutes that the man who does the packaging will come soon. Well, I know what five minutes means in Indian time so I pull out my book and get comfortable. Later a man approaches me and asks what I have in the box. ‘Bangles’, I tell him. “Is that all you have?” he asks. I tell him it is and he said, “Come”. So I follow him and his small son out of the post office and up to a motorcycle. He puts the boy in front of him on the cycle and tells me to 'sit’. I looked at him and said, “Are you kidding?” He simply responded, “Sit”. So I got on the back and off we went, motoring through the tiny alleyways. (There is no type of transportation on these narrow alleyways whether motor driven, or human driven, but I will see a couple of cycles during my stay.) My driver avoids dogs, children, cows and whatever else may be in the way. At times it was so narrow the sides of my pants brushed the sides of the buildings. I literally just closed my eyes, but feeling dizzy I had to open them again, much to my dismay. There we were roaring away, a box of bangles and the Bhagavagita in one hand and holding on to the man with my other hand. I was surprised at how long the ride was. How could these alleys extend so far? These alleys are on the other side of the main road from where I am staying.

At his place we end up having a great conversation and in the end he asks if I understand Hindi, sadly I tell him I do not. If I did he was going to invite me to attend classes he was going to on the subject matter we had been discussing. He tells me he will hold on to my little box in case there is anything else I would like to add to it because it is a lot cheaper to send more than just what I had. He pointed out the direction back, and off I went. I was a bit apprehensive as I was a long way from the post office and he was sending me back a way that would lead me to the food market on the main street. From there he told me I would see the arches to the old city and would know my way from there.

I came across a man sitting on a round corner on a tiny spot selling his essence oils. His name is Beshue. We began talking and I sat down with crossed legs beside him as we talked for a long time. Sitting here would offer me a new perspective on this ancient city. I am able to witness the coming and going of people and animals within these very narrow alleys, in three different directions. We sit right at the edge of our side of the alley. Beshue was alert to place his arm across my knees in protection when a bull would pass my only a couple inches in front of me. We watch and laugh at monkeys running, chasing and leaping from the rooftops.

We get into a discussion of the meaning of some Sanskrit words. I was there for quite a while. I remember mostly the undying heart which I thought was very beautiful.

I bid my new friend farewell. I will come back to visit with him more times while I am in Varanasi .I continued my journey through the maze toward the food market. I go to Megu’s, a Japanese restaurant for my daily meal. I eat only one meal a day. I got use to it very quickly. My mornings or usually chai or coffee. I find that I can pick up oranges or bananas when I see them and bring them to my room for late night eating. I also find various other things in due time, such as cookies, crackers and the sort.

One day while on the main street a guy comes up to me trying to get me to go to one of his relatives store to purchase things. I am learning how to deal with these people. You do not even say, no, because that just gives them something to come back with. So as usual by now, I just keep walking, acting as if he did not even exist. After about 15 minutes I finally told him that if he wished to walk with me he must keep his mouth shut and not talk. He agreed, but within a few seconds he just had to speak so I motioned to him to zip it or else…This guy followed me around for about 45 minutes. Every time he started to speak I would turn and look at him and he would stop and say, ‘ sorry, sorry, no speak, no speak’. There would be no quieting this guy. I was getting irritated. This time asking where I was staying, if he could come there with me and I just stopped dead in my tracks screaming at him, to go, to get away, in Hindi. I was screaming so loud that my eyes were closed. When I opened them he was gone and I never saw him again. I was told latter that if you holler at one of these guys they will depart immediately because they are afraid it will draw the police and then they will get in trouble for hassling a tourist. Hmmmm…. so the rule for the millions of these sorts you will come across in India is first: do not give any eye contact…at all. Second is not to say a word…not one word. And if that fails and they are still hassling you, holler at them. I know this sounds terribly rude, at least it does to me and I would have never dreamed I could do such a thing. This was in the extreme and finally unnerved me. It did the trick though!

I begin my day by going to an aromatherapy home. It is the family of one of my friends next door to my guesthouse. We walk there and come to the front door we enter and walk through a long corridor, which opens into a large open space with a square center and railings around it. Keep in mind that this is inside the house. In the space are three cows. Yes, this is their home, but understand it is tile and absolutely spotlessly clean. Off to the side is a room, which is the Keeper of Natural Oils. A selection of oils was described, smelled and given their uses and effects. Spices were next. Of course, the masala was exciting to me. Masala for non-cooking and masala for cooking. A cup of masala chai with fresh milk was made for us. The milk came from the cows living in the center of the house. The tea used was darlingee. It was a wonderful experience of learning and sampling.

I awake early one morning to go on the sunrise boat cruise on the Ganga River. It was inspiring to see this ancient place from off shore. It was literally awesome. The boat was small rowed by one man. There were 4 of us total in the boat. Every morning you can see all the little boats out on the water.

I have wanted to get a tattoo while in India and decide that this is the place for it. I decide on the mantra: On Namah Shiva. One of my friends next door takes me to the guy that will do it. We come to a very tiny shop. As we stand just inside the entrance I get my tattoo. Danielle has come with us and she decides that a tattoo is just what she would like as a souvenir from India also. She gets a large Om on her wrist.

Next I was off for my walking adventure for the day. I meandered about till late and stopped to eat at a new place out of the old city on the main street. At the end of the meal the waiter started to take my Pepsi bottle away and I grabbed it saying I wasn’t finished. Taking the last swallow I noticed something went into my mouth that was not liquid. I picked it out of my mouth and it was a fly!! Oh yuck! I had to just control the mind so I would not get freaked out about it. Certainly the thought was worse than the actual event. Guess I should have let the waiter take the bottle when he started to…did he know something I did not!!

Back out onto the street a man in business attire came up to me and asked if I needed to change any money. I told him I did not have to at the moment, but perhaps in the future. I went to his office and got his card so I would remember where he was. Sitting across from him at his desk I had laid my little shopping bag on the desk. He asked me what I had been shopping for so I told him to take a look. He opened the bag to find a few plastic bangles, some sunscreen an a little plastic poke-man cup. He grinned a bit surprised (I guess tourists buy more expensive things) and curious at the cup. I told him I needed a larger cup because they only serve it in tiny clay cups that hold maybe 6 tablespoonfuls. Then the cup is thrown onto the street and smashed. There are literally thousands of these cups smashed on the streets everywhere I go in India. Since I liked chi so much he asked me if I would like him to get some for me. I asked him if it would be good chi and really hot. He said,’Yes', good like when man and woman have sex.” Uh-Oh!! I gave him money for the chi and he continued with, “Do you like sex?” I told him, yes with my husband. He asked what about not with your husband, and I said that I just wouldn’t. He went off for the chi and a Japanese girl and American guy came in. When the man came back he had to help them with a money exchange so I grabbed my tea in my new cup and headed for the door. Surprised at my exit he said, “ Aren’t you going to drink your chi here?” I told him no, that that was why I had bought this cup with a lid, and I was out of there! Creep.

Next I headed for the Ganga. Walking there among the Ghats and river gave me the feeling of space and freshness. A young Indian man latched onto me and kept talking. I just kept ignoring him. Finally his statement that the cremations at the burning Ghat were in process, sparked my interest. I decided that it would be the right time to go and witness the event. He followed me. Once again I have acquired a human, which has attached himself to me. How does one get rid of these people without being rude? I did not feel it appropriate to yell at him as he was not rude and had been with me only a short time. As he followed he said, “I’m no after money, just like to talk” (Right, I have heard that before.) He asked if I would mind if he went with me. Well, that was new for me, the politeness, and seemingly honesty of his manner. He actually asks if he could go with me instead of insistently following. I said ok, not energetically but with a matter of fact. Soon a friend of his joins us. The burning Ghats are where cremations have been held for thousands of years. A large area right next to the Ganga is full of bodies being burned. It is said that to die in Varanasi and be cremated here will insure you entrance to Heaven. People with money will make sure that the corpse of their loved one be transported to Varansi for cremation. We reached the burning Ghat and watched from the spectators’ area. Just a few moments later the young man said, “Come,” and we walked right into the center of this unusual event. The dirt ground covered with individual piles of burning wood with a corpse in the center. There are many burning heaps causing the entire area to be hot. Smoke rises from each cremation site filling the air with the smell of burning wood. No one is allowed in this area, especially non-Indians and women. The group of Indian men was really looking at me and I was not sure if I would soon be asked to leave. My Indian companion did speak with some of the men as they looked at me but I never asked what was being said. I was never asked to leave.

I knew I was experiencing something very few people get to witness. I looked up to the spectator area and saw an assortment of Indians and tourists watching intently at the event. This was certainly a sight my eyes have never seen before. One body is put on to a pile of banyan wood then covered with more wood. The fire is lit from the Shiva fire up the hill, which has never quit burning for 5-7 thousand years. There are people who manage and guard this fire at all times, making sure the embers are still red.

Each body takes 2 –2 ½ hours to be consumed by the fire and the rest of the bones that are left over are thrown into the Ganga. Usually these bones are the hip/pelvis and I believe the skull. There are a lot of burning piles with charred heads and legs sticking out. A man comes around with a long stick and pushes on the bones to keep them in the fire. While doing so a part of a leg falls off…. These bodies were being burned right close to the shore, which is for the lower class. Just up a ways was the middle class and highest up the hill the highest caste. I asked my companion why were the lower class burned the closest to the Ganga and the higher caste further away since the Ganga is so holy? It seems that the higher caste would be burned closer to the Holy Ganga. He tells me that the higher cast gets to be higher up. Then he realizes what I meant and laughed.

I bet in the summer time the men that do this job of pushing the bones back into the flame hope that there are not too many that die, as this is March and it is really hot. Pictures would have been awesome to take but no cameras are allowed. Understandably.

He takes me up the hill to the Shiva Fire. Just looking at it thinking of how long it has been burning and how long it will be burning is beyond anything my mind can wrap around. As I was thinking and feeling the holiness of this fire and trying to imprint it upon my mind, to somehow take a small part of it into my life, the young man reaches into the ash with his finger and turns and places the ash between my eyebrows. What could have been more perfect? I felt humbled and honored.

After a bit more walking, though appreciative for my guide I was ready to go my separate way. But my guides insisted I taste some snacks from the street. I was glad because they were quite good, but now I really must be on my way.

I was pretty close to Besheu (the man with the essential oils) so I went and sat with him for about an hour. Funny his little corner really is a round corner. As usual we sit and talk while being entertained by the passing of various animals and an array of people. I make sure to keep my feet tucked by sitting with crossed legs. Besheu has been sick with the black fever and some days are better for him than others. It is a long process to get better.

It is dark now as I say good-by to Besheu. The way back through the alleys was a great sight and one I enjoy remembering, wishing I had pictures of the incredible sight and ambiance that was created. The venders sit on a low platform off the ground with their wares around them and all have candles burning for light. All along the narrow alleyways in the pitch-blackness are candles everywhere, casting their golden glow of light. It was a mystical and exotic sight to see. I continue till I am out of the maze and cross the main road, back through the arches and into another maze, I return to my guesthouse, satisfied that my day has been full and inspiring.

While at the food market one day I come upon a very interesting looking man. Somehow we begin to speak. He has a cobra. I decide that I would love to take a picture of the man but my camara is out of batteries. I ask him if he would still be around in the evening time and would he mind if I came back to take his picture. He agreed that he would be there and that I could take his picture. That evening I went back to see him and took a few pictures of his. He suggested I take a picture of the cobra. He placed the snake in his basket on the ground and I got down on my knees to take some shots. Behind the lens of the camara the snake did not look so intimidating so I got into getting some more shots of it. When I removed my camara from my eye it shocked me that I was almost in the face of the snake! With a gasp I fell backwards from the squatted position I was in, onto the street. By then a lot of people had gathered and were laughing. One of the men in the crowd tells me that the man comes every year with a different type of snake. Last year he brought a huge anaconda to town. Of course once a crowd gathers it turns quickly into a social event. So I spent time chatting with the people and had quite a nice time.

I love some of the things I read on signs. For example, ‘Items are available in hole sale.’ I wish I had written down all the funny things that I had seen written. Another I remember is at a restaurant. The sign just inside the entrance reads, “We Serve Worm Food”. That’s appetizing!

One night in my room I watch a large mouse run in, he was cute and he would make his appearance a few more times.

Today I was sitting on a little cement step in an alleyway when an older man came up to me and sat down beside me. Turns out he was a Vedic astrologer and wanted to do my chart. I told him I did not have any money but he proceeded nonetheless. I felt bad that he had spent time with me and that I could not pay him, although I had told him this before he started. I did mention to him that I knew of someone who was looking for a Vedic astrologer and would bring them to him. Latter I would bring Danielle to meet him but we unable to find him. Really wish we would have. Danielle was disappointed and so was I.

One day I walk down to the Muslim area. They have beautiful textiles, with very detailed and elaborate needlework. The whole area has a different look and feel to it. One thing that really stood out to me was the dress of the women. That only stood out because of the contrast of the Indian women wear brightly colored saris and the Muslim women of course are dressed head to toe in black, with only their eyes and hands showing.

Went to the Aariti tonight. It was lovely. There were about 7 Brahmins who participated in the ritual. Smoke, fire and flowers filled by visual. The river was full of boats with golden lights. The Aariti is performed every night and there are always hundreds of people there. I was fortunate to be right in front of the Brahmins. After the event we all went up to get prasad. When I approached the priest of whom I was standing in line to receive prasad, as he gave me the prasad he said, “God bless you.” I noticed he had not spoken to anyone else. It gave me to thought…of which of course none came.

I had the opportunity to spend an evening with Danielle’s mother. It was a very enjoyable evening sipping on ginger tea and conversing about numerous things. Danielle is from London and I believe her mom is living in Spain.

I am awaked by Monu's voice calling Auntie outside my door about 6:30 one morning. (Like the guys next door call me Auntie except that Monu uses the Hindi name for it. I get up; wrap myself in an Indian cloth I use as a sheet. He has been taking a class on tourism and had a test this morning that required him to go to the Ghats and talk to tourists about boat rides, what their experience was like, and if they were satisfied with his approach etc. The problem was there were no tourists out and he needed to have his paper filled out and handed in this morning. So I filled out the papers for him and he is off to hand it in. I enjoy being a part of the family.

Time is going by quickly here in Varanasi. Things happen quickly and I do not have the time to write it all down. I have introduced all my new friends to the guys at the little shop next door and before long there are quite a few of us hanging out and laughing through the day and night.

One day I was asked to watch the shop next door while they ran errands. I spent a few hours displaying the clothes on hangers, tops with pretty shawls around them paired with pants or skirts. I also folded and straightened the stacks of items on the shelves. When they came back they were really happy with the new look of brightly colored sets hanging that could be seen as one passed the shop, drawing their attention inside.

Another day I walked the Ghats .It was soooo hot that I wasn’t sure I would ever make it back. So instead of going back by way of the ghats I went up to a street and after negotiations found a tuk tuk that would take me to Tulsi Das Mandir.

It seems much time is spent just trying to find a place to stay cool. My room is hotter than hades even with the little fan. Fortunately I finally heard of an outdoors restaurant that was tucked away behind some buildings, which had overhead fans. I will spend a lot of hours there sipping iced ginger lemonade. I turned more people on to this place and they were as thankful for it as I was.

Went to Sarnath with Kelly and Augustine. Kelly is from Florida and Augustine is from Argentina. They have become engaged on their trip. They are a super nice couple and we have a lot of fun together. Sarnath is the place where Buddha gave his first teaching after becoming enlightened. At Sarnath we spoke at one of the temples to a Jain monk and learned a something quite interesting. The Jains are perhaps the most non violent of all the religious sects. The monk told us there are some monks who carry a soft fan like object when they are walking and dust the ground in front of them before each step as to not kill any microscopic insect that may be there.

At another temple I asked the monk what mudra the golden statue of Buddha was in. He told me Dharamachakre, the teaching mudra and then asked if I knew anything of Buddhism. The only thing I could speak was, “how can one know anything of life until one knows of Buddhism.” His eyes looked deep into mine with a bit of surprise an a‘AhHa’ moment.

Kelly, Augustine and myself had dinner at Sam’s, with the overhead fans and stayed there a long time, enjoying being out of the sun and resting.

I am sad for I will be departing Varanasi in the morning.

Upon arrival at the guesthouse things started getting very chatty when the guys next door came over looking for Auntie. A going away party has been planned for me. We all got together, my tourist friends, the guys next door and the father of my host at the guesthouse. We gather at the little shop, sitting on the floor, laughing, talking and taking pictures while drinking lassies. A lassie is a yogurt drink and depending on where you get it can be absolutely delicious. Some of us had bhang in our lassies. Bhang is a cannabis paste mixture, which can be added to your lassie. A great time was had by all. My friends from the shop told me that I was not like any tourist they had ever met and gave me a lovely bracelet as a gift. I was both humbled and honored by the gesture. But as always, parting comes with sadness. I have been here 3 weeks and the time has flown by

A strange thing happened this morning. I had the alarm set for 6:10, as I need to leave by 7 to go to the center of town to catch a tuk tuk to the train station (ya, that again). I pushed the button on my alarm clock but feel back to sleep (to much bhang last night). Then some ladies calling my name awakened me. I sat up and answered, “ya?” But no one was there…. No one was around anywhere. I looked downstairs and no one was there. It was just another of those times in India where there is just no explanation. Thank God for these times. If it had not been for the voices I would have missed my train.

I walked out of the ancient city of mazes higher than the little kites I had watched fluttering in the sky above the rooftop of the guesthouse upon my arrival. I reached the main street and caught a tuk tuk to the train station. The driver let me out on the side of the road and I walked the rest of the way to the station. Entering the station I come upon people looking at a board for train information. I can never understand these boards and am always at a loss of where to go. I always ask questions but I can never understand what I am being told. While I am standing there an older man asks if he can help me. Yes, Yes, Yes!!! He tells me the platform I need to go to and the way there—to your left—up the stairs—the word stairs takes some energy out of me immediately. I have climbed more stairs since being in India than I have in all my life. The man sees the dismay and asks if I would like a porter. Yes! Yes! Yes! He gets me a porter and walks with us to the place where I will board the train. The train is already there! How wonderful! He takes me onto the train to my compartment. I am so thankful. The feelings of dread of the train station that kept coming up for the past few days were now all gone. India has been merciful this morning and I am thankful.

At 7pm I am still on the train and have not been able to get anything to drink. At 8:20am we stop. I do not know where. People are getting off the train and at the end of the line a man looks at me and says, “this is Dehra Dun.” I grabbed my stuff and got off! Once again someone has come to my aid. I wonder if Dehra Dun was the last stop. Who know where I would have ended up had not the man told me where we were. I get off the train.