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.