So it has been a while since I last updated this bad boy. It’s strange living without a consistent source of internet. I realize that I am definitely behind in world news (how’s that oil spill going?) and have gravely taken for granted the instant gratification of Wikipedia knowledge, alas! Anyways let me fill ye all in on the past week and a halfish (while I eat a little bag of golden raisins—only 25 rupees! That’s about 50 cents American, suckas!).
Last weekend the group went to Yamunotri—a temple devoted to the goddess Yamuna, daughter of the sun and the origin of the Yamuna River, the second holiest river in India behind the Ganges. What was supposed to be about a 6 hour cab ride turned into 10 hours—India time, rather than being infuriating, reminds me of my own inability to be punctual and thus it would be hypocritical to slander it too harshly. The drive was on the windiest of winding 2 lane roads hugging the steep Himalayan mountain sides with often nothing more than a few boulders painted with big white circles with a red center—warning of the perilous fall that awaited your car, should you be so unfortunate to ignore their gentle guidance—between you and the hundreds of feet down to the Yamuna.
The drive was not as terrifying as I like to make it sound (though one cab did crash into a building while one of the cab drivers tried to close one of the back doors while in transit). It was superbly gorgeous driving through the Himalayas and everything is becoming all shades of green thanks to the Monsoon rains. Nearly every hill is covered in terraces and pocked with small groupings of farming villages. Many roadside signs boasted of World Bank funding—something I’d like to find out more about, like how exactly they good ol’ World Bank is helping? If only I had taken a Globalization class or had access to Wikipedia. There were a couple of visible mudslides too, which looked devastating even from where our point of view was far below.
When we finally arrived to Janki Chatti, the last town before the trek to Yamunotri, we had the best chai I’ve had thus far in India and took a little walk around. It was a paradoxical place. Sherpas playing music on their cell phones. Families living in small structures of tin roofs and dirt floors gathered around T.V.s and cooking their dinners over open flames and earthen ovens. We began the 6 kilometer trek the next morning around 7. What I had assumed would be a hike through brush and forest turned out to be a completely paved path all the way to the temple (because Yamunotri is one of the most holy Hindu sites it obviously has to be accessible year round, regardless of weather conditions). It was still a good trek as it was almost entirely up hill and covered in horse excrement from the horses that carry up devout Hindus who are too old and not healthy enough to do the actual walk. In addition to horses there are also people that are hired to carry the unwell up the hill too! One contraption is like a lounge chair made of bamboo that 4 men carry on their shoulders. The other is simply a large wicker basket that one man carries on his back—with a person in it! And that’s how he makes his living! I was amazed.
When we reached the temple (after about an hour and a halfish?) we entered these natural hot springs at the entrance of the temple. There were separate baths for men and women. The men’s bath was on top out in the open air with the women’s directly underneath it. The women’s bath was intensely steamy, dark and cavernous (additionally, the walls were painted pink. Structural analogy much??). It was glorious to be submerged in a body of hot water after weeks of taking buckets (shower heads are rare, or don’t work when they exist. And there’s no hot water where I am currently staying, yikes). The Indian women in the baths were really friendly and laughing and welcoming! After the dip we went up to the temple and gave puja and received red dots in the middle of our foreheads. After that I realized how grossly ignorant I am to Hinduism—I still don’t know what the red dot means, another time Wikipedia would be AMAZING to have at my disposal.
That night we had an amazing dinner of roti and veggies and rice pudding with golden raisins! The food at Janki Chatti was definitely the best I’ve had during my time in India thus far. After dinner we took another walk and the sky was bursting with stars! Over the ridge of the nearest hill we could spy the milky way floating atop the indigo blue of the night and the streets were washed in an orangey-yellow light from the sparse street lamps and the air was fresh smelling with rain but also a bit pungent with horse shit and the burning embers from earthen ovens and it was maybe one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever experienced.
So that was Yamunotri. We returned to Mussoorie that night and had class the next morning at 8! We’re already in chapter 11 of this Hindi text book and it is seriously remarkable how much we’ve learned over the past two and a half weeks. We know the alphabet, how to count to 30, have a pretty large vocabulary, know how to address people formally and informally how to intensify transitive and intransitive verbs, etc! We’re by no means fluent but can definitely barter and chat with locals now. The proficiency learned in a week was quite helpful when…..
Just this past weekend we went to Rishikesh, the yoga capitol of ze world! We took taxis right after school (1600 rupees one way, which ended up being 400 rupees a person, which is about 8 dollars a person for a 3 hour cab ride). Some other groups took the bus which was only 30 rupees, but given that our group of 5 was all girls we decided to eschew any unnecessary sexual harassment/gawking/discomfort that an unfamiliar bus ride might entail (at least for this particular sojourn). Anyways, we got in around 6 and checked into the Shri Sant Seva Ashram right on the Ganges, just east of the Luxman Jhula Bridge. Our room had a balcony overlooking the Ganges and air conditioning—YES. The next morning we woke up for a 730 beginners Hatha yoga class at the ashram. While it was relaxing, I really wanted to do some intense warrior yoga. Alas, with such a short time there and nothing to guide us but the Lonely Planet it was not found that weekend. After the yoga folly we went to lunch at a place called Chotiwala, recommended by one of our teachers at the language school. It was kind of like the McDonalds of India in the fact that it was fastish food and it had this weird little mascot: picture a small fat blue man wearing a sarong, totally bald except for a sprig of hair sticking up from the back of his head like a tail or one spike in a Mohawk (called a Choti), and the rest of his dome covered in artistic, multicolored swirls and shapes.
After lunch we did some shopping, got caught in a monsoon downpour and then went to a religious ceremony on the Ganges (I say it was Buddhist because they were chanting about the Dali Lama while others in our party say it was Hindu because it was performed before a huge statue of Shiva sitting in the Ganges, but I digress). The entire ceremony (maybe about an hour and a half long?) was basically a musical performance by the gurus-in-training wearing banana yellow kurtas (long, male shirts) and salwars (pants). Midway through the ceremony an old women dressed in all orange began leading the chants as well. The music was absolutely hypnotizing. Musical accompaniment=tabla drums, accordion and little finger cymbals.
The next day Nina, 2 other girls from our program and I decided to find some waterfalls that the Lonely Planet boasted was a mere 15 minute walk from town. It was more like 40 minutes down the road plus a tiny 10 minute hike, but the relief of standing under a waterfall after walking in the stifling, humid heat was well worth it. And of course we submerged ourselves fully clothed as per Indian propriety. There were some local guys at the waterfall that we talked to a little bit in Hindi and followed us back to town and of course made unsultry remarks to us because being a white woman in this country basically makes you a well-known whore merely by the color of your skin. But we’re all dealing.
It was also strange being white in Rishikesh because as it is a tourist attraction, being white makes you another one of the town’s attractions. It is RIDICULOUS how many pictures were taken of us—with or without our permission. I would go on but I need to do my Hindi homework and this is already the longest post in the world.
PS: Leave me your address so I can send you a postcard or somethannnnnn!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
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