Hilltown Layover-Nainital and Kausani

Jon and I had our hearts set on doing a Himalayan trek. We asked around Rishikesh and discovered that there was a hill town, only about a ten hour bus ride away, with trekking. We arrived at the Haridwar "bus station." Which was a gravel lot filled with buses labeled in Hindi. We just stood there, laughing. Clueless as to what to do. We passed a few identical food stands and came to a tin shack. The information counter. Luckily for us, the men there spoke a little bit of English and instructed us of the next steps we should take. The bus to Nainital didn't depart for three hours, so we found the nearest restaurant, set down our packs, and waited, over chai. The workers spoke very little English. We took pictures with them. People love to have their pictures taken with westerners. It's funny. We will be stopped on the streets, exchange introductions, have our pictures taken and continue on. We boarded the bus, and it seemed like we had an entire row of seats to ourselves. We were early. Minutes later, more people boarded and our dreams of a spacious ride were crushed. The ride was terrible. It was a night bus, so we were exhausted. Whenever we dozed off, we were violently awakened by a bump in the road that sent us flying forward. The brakes squealed loudly with every application. Our only defense against discomfort is laughter. At 6:00am we arrived to a lake illuminated by the lights on the hillside. Nainital. It was beautiful. But we were freezing so we took the first hotel offer and were ushered off in a jeep to the Hotel Maharaja. The weather that first day was dreary. Showers for hours. We walked around for a short while but were back in our room by the afternoon, where we remained for the day. It's funny because Nainital is a romantic vacation getaway so Jon and I are treated as newlyweds. Given special treatment and special rooms. The next day was beautiful. Sun and clear skies. We took a trolley to Snow View, a point with a view of the Himalayas. Clouds loomed low over the giant peaks in the distance, but we had a view of a small string of mountains. The teaser view was enough to inspire us to go closer. Trekking was out of the question due to inclement weather, but a town called Kausani only a few hours away promised a panoramic view of the Himalayas. Sold.

The next day, we loaded our packs and hopped in a cab to Kausani. Although only around 120 kilometers away, the winding roads made for a long journey. We left at 10:00am and didn't arrive until around 3:00pm. We made stops along the way at various temples, bridges and waterfalls. When we arrived, we were shown to our room...the sunrise room. It had a huge window overlooking the Himalayas. Absolutely breathtaking sight to wake up to. We watched sunset, played multiple games of gin rummy and had a "complimentary dinner" of Thali (a full course with rice, dahl, curd, and other Indian delights) and unlimited chapati. The next morning, we awakened bright and early for sunrise. The view from our balcony was gorgeous. Neither of us could break our stares or stop smiling. After our sunrise and complimentary breakfast (not quite as hearty as dinner...a chai and a small piece of white toast) we returned to the road for the long ride back to Nainital to catch an evening bus.

Rishikesh

We arrived at the train station in Agra to go to Rishikesh, "the Yoga captital of the universe" around 10:00am for our 10:50 train. The board said train 8477 didn't leave until 3:55. We asked a few people about it and they directed us to platform 2. So we assumed it must've been a typo.In our experience, trains here are notorious for delayed departures. So we waited until 12:30pm. At this point we were approached by a crippled man who walked with his arms, legs curled into criss cross applesauce, and told us that our train was very late. He preceeded to count 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 out loud on his fingers, indicating that our train was ten hours late. We double checked with the information booth. Our new departure time was 8:00pm. Good to know now. So we rickshawed back to our guesthouse and basked in the sun and the sight of the Taj.

Finally, we were back at the platform able to board. We bundled in preparation in our Indian sweaters and layers of pants. Still not enough, but better. We sat next to a line of Babas dressed in gauzy tangerine and cantalope colored cloth with dreads that could have inspired Jack Sparrow's coif in the Pirates trilogy. We pulled into Haridwar station trembling from the cold winter air and caught a rickshaw to Rishikesh. The driver stopped after around 45 minutes, in the middle of a long stretch of road and said "Rishikesh," gesturing toward the road. That was our cue to exit. We were in the middle of nowhere, a few lone food carts and the Ganges in the distance. When we stopped, we were swarmed by Rickshaw drivers offering to take us the rest of the way. We were taken to the side of a steep hill and let off. We went into an Ashram recommended by Lonely Planet to find they were full. Our second option was a hike. We huffed and puffed our ways to the top. They had a ten day minimum. So we continued walking. We crossed the Ganges and walked along a sidewalk lined with Babas, monkeys, cows and fruit stands. We finally came to an Ashram that had been recommended to us by a friend in Malaysia and settled in. Our room was not much different than a jail cell-a concrete box with barred windows and doors with walls that had been painted periwinkle to detract from the dreariness of it. The beds were equipped with heavy-duty king sized comforters so we were happy. Our first night we attended the first of many yoga classes. The teacher had a Welcome Back Kotter 'stache and a Zach Morris hair cut. But his class was just what our muscles needed after all the cramped trains. The next day we woke up sore from overstretching. We continued with 2 1 1/2 hour classes each day. In between classes we filled our days with hikes to a Shiva Temple (a two hour uphill trek that gave us a view of the city) and white water rafting.

Gabe wasn't feeling well and was trying to recover from a tummy bug. One day, a man showed up at our door claiming to be a doctor here to treat him. He instructed him to lay down on the bed and poked at his stomach. He then asked him to move to the floor and massaged his calves while Jon and I stifled laughter at his abrupt intrusion. After cracking some bones and shaking him out, the doctor said that he could pay him tomorrow if he felt better. It was thoughtful, if not insanely bizarre. We all stood there, dumbfounded. On our final night, we met a highly intellectual Indian painter with a long whispy beard and a curduroy baret. He gave us a lesson in philosophy. We sat and listened intently to his thoughts on life, death, interpersonal interactions, God and western philosophy over Chai. We could've listened forever.

Unfortunately the doctor's treatment didn't cure Gabe and he caught a flight home this morning-nothing beats the comfort of home to recover from illness. We said a sad farewell and parted ways. Our trio sadly whittled down to two. Jon and I continue on to Nainital tonight for some Himalayan adventures.

Taj Mahal

We spent Valentine's Day on a train to Agra with the three of us, two Israelis and a group of Indians. Very romantic. Right when we got in, we bought train tickets scheduled to leave the following morning. Our intention in Agra was simple, see the Taj Mahal. Before boarding our train, we met a Croatian woman who was traveling by herself so she joined us for our adventures at the Taj. Gabe felt ill and spent the day sleeping. So Jon, Visnja and I went to the temple. We walked through the arched doorways and there it stood. I couldn't even believe it was real until I touched it. Completely ethereal. Especially with the gray, bland backdrop. It was built so that only the sky served as its backdrop. It makes it feel as if it had fallen down from the heavens. Just pure and perfect. We spent around five hours there, awestruck.

At the end of the day, we ate dinner with Visnja and bid her safe journeys. She was returning to Katmandu to finish some work she had been doing and had just come down to India for a short while. We went to bed to prepare for a day of traveling.

Varanasi is VERRY NIIIICE

On the afternoon train to Varanasi, we arrived to our seats to discover that they had been taken. Already claimed by a family, parents and three small boys. Can't really argue with that. The three of us climbed up to the top bunks with two of the young boys. Naturally, Jon made friends with them in an instant and was teaching them, through hand gestures and examples, card games--Uno and War. We got into a station about 45 minutes outside of town from Varanasi so had to find a rickshaw to take us the rest of the way. We found one quickly, more, the driver found us quickly and we were off. More than ever before, my parent's childhood warnings to keep my hands and feet inside the vehicle rang true. The ride was like a roller coaster, just as we were about to collide with another car, rickshaw or cow on the side of the road, our driver would sound a horn and turn abruptly to avoid it. We checked into Yogi Lodge and were welcomed with a chai.

Our first morning there, we decided to see the Ganges for sunrise. We woke up at 5:46 am. Exhausted. But we had made plans so had to pull ourselves out of bed. We bundled in all of our layers and headed downstairs to meet our guide, who also worked as the Yogi Lodge's reception. We hopped in a dewy rickshaw. Our jeans instantly wet from the condensation. He wiped down the windshield, spit out a stream of clay colored liquid, and we headed for the river. The morning fog was so thick, it was difficult to distinguish where the water ended and the sky began. Boats came out of the nothingness like ghosts. Candles sat in a bed of flowers in small leaf bowls, floating on the water, providing some of the only light through the fog. We got in our boat. I slipped getting in but caught myself. Gabe wasn't quite so lucky and his foot dropped in. The ride wasn't quite as we had expected-no Umbrella Corporation floating zombie bodies or faces with eyes open just under the water's surface. The water was like glass. The sun appeared, like the moon through the fog, it's rays muted. The sun is different here. It doesn't make a big spectacle of its coming and going. It rises into the sky like a saucer and descends at night in the same way. The colors in the sky don't change much. People old and young lined the Ghats at the river sides to bathe in the holy water of the Ganges. Men wrapped in a small sheets and women in Saris. They bathe day and night. On the side, between Ghats, is a creamatorium. You see a body wrapped in a pink sheet, waiting to be burned. Heaping piles of human ash sit by the river. A man walks down from the burning bodies, galvanized metal bucket balanced on his head, a mountain of ashes. He empties his bucket, and returns to the site. Passing others with the same job on the way down. People use their heads here like wheelbarrows, carrying bundles of sticks, suitcases, leaves. I hold my breath and try to breath through my nose to prevent the inhalation of the ashes of those passed. Tourists take pictures. We see the sunrise in the sky. Our view of the water was followed with a tour of some temples and a long nap. Monkeys populate the streets here like squirrels in Portland parks. Rooftop restaurants are covered in thatched bamboo to keep them out.

The next day was Shivaratri, a festival celebrating the marriage of the god Shiva. The concierge at our guest house said that it would rain this day, and that it always rains on the day of the Shiva Festival. Sure enough, the weather changed from sunny and warm to heavy showers the following day. We met two people from the South of France and spent the day exploring the city with them. We returned to the Ghats and the burning of bodies. A body has a stubborn leg that kinks outward and a guy with a bamboo stick pokes and prods the body into the fire to ensure that it burns completely. There is faint music in the distance and an occasional chime of a bell. The image is haunting, but in a bittersweet way because being cremated here is a great privilege.

That evening, the town was illuminated in colorful strands of lights and a parade stormed through the city. The streets were crowded and difficult to maneuver through. When we walked out onto the street, a masked man jumped in front of Jon waving a sword. The three of us jumped back. Elephants and floats came next. Straight out of Aladdin.

After the festival we spent our final day, Valentine's day, packing up, getting a delicious lunch at the Silver Spoon on the main street and boarding a train.

photos to come...

Gabe, Jon, Me and the Bodhi Tree

When we arrived in Bodh Gaya, the sun had not yet risen and we were delirious from exhaustion. We were freezing cold, wrapped in layered clothes that were made for much warmer climates. None of us prepared for the Indian winter. The train ride was an entertaining one. Smurf blue, vinyl beds. The three of us had the top bunks. At each stop, men came on selling chai, chips and chains-to chain yourself to your belongings while you slept. Really comforting. We received curious glances from fellow travelers-we were the only westerners on our train, or at least in the 3rd class compartment of the train. After a short time, the three of us fell asleep and drifted in and out for the next 8 hours. We woke up to find that all our stuff was in tact and we were only a half hour from our destination. The rickshaw ride from Gaya to Bodh Gaya had the three of us huddled together under one small blanket, trying to get warm. We traveled in the dark of the early morning, down a long, desolate highway, sharing the road with little other than military looking vehicles. When we arrived at the Root Institute, it was too early and they had not yet opened. So Gabe and I decided to walk into town as the sun was rising, while a sickly Jon stayed back and drank Chai. We wandered aimlessly, following the sun, down a small corridor. Bricks layed with cowshit as adhesive, various farm animals walked freely, cutting us off from time to time. We came to a path in a mustard field that gave us a postcard worthy view of the sunrise. This is the India we had imagined. Rural, colorful and aweinspiring.

We stopped when we heard "hello." It was a young Indian girl. We replied "Good Morning." She invited us to her home for Chai. We followed her to a cement, thatched roof house that looked out at the sun and the mustard fields. She patted a table, inviting us to sit down. We did and shortly after, we were surrounded by her father and her three siblings-two brothers and one sister. They were all getting ready for school. We had caught them at breakfast time. The youngest sister brought us tea and a sweet carrot dish. Followed by home made chapatis. We were stuffed after two, but forced down a third to be polite. Incredible hospitality. We were joined by the grandfather, a "small farmer," and though our communication was limited by the language barrier, his face was so expressive that speaking was hardly necessary. We saw the children off to school and sat with the grandfather until it was time for us to check in.

The Root Institute is a Buddhist retreat located just outside of town. Tibetan flags hang over a large statue of Buddha that sits in the middle of the courtyard. The only sounds are birds and the occasional chime of the prayer bell. We spent the next few days in meditation classes. On our second day, our instructor, Annette, said we should walk to the Stupa to do our morning meditation. We met her at 6:00am, bundled in blankets, and began our walk. I don't think I will ever get used to the vision of girls in beautifully ornate, tangerine, and fuscia colored saris, squatting in the dust fields just off the path to relieve themselves. We followed Annette, unsure of what the Stupa meant. I assumed it was some viewpoint to meditate with the rising sun. We walked through garbage-littered fields and small villages. After about 15 minutes, we arrived at our destination. Annette laid yoga mats and pillows on the ground for our use. We were sitting under the Bodhi Tree, a descenent to the original tree that Buddha had reached enlightenment under. That is where we had our morning meditation. It was a surreal experience. We spent the remainder of our time there relaxing and preparing ourselves for some rigorous travel.

On our second to last night, Gabe and I returned to the home of the family we had met the first day. They gave us sugar cane and potatoes with salt as we sat and exchanged hindi and English words. They invited us to return for dinner. So we returned with Jon in tow. They had cleared a spot on two beds for us to sit for dinner. We were joined by the entire family, except the father and were fed a real, Indian, home-cooked meal. Potato filled pancakes, sweet carrots and tomato salsa followed by sweet rice. It was my favorite meal in India so far. It was an unforgettable way to spend our final night in Bodh Gaya. We were blown away by their extreme hospitality to near strangers. We continue to experience unconditional kindness and hospitality at every stop.

Our next stop is the Holy City of Varanasi.