January 28, 2010
O, what a flight!
First, I’m sorry that I left you hanging but I haven’t had a chance to write since the flight to Everest. And really, I couldn’t have planned it better. It’s much more dramatic this way as you wondered what happened and assuming that we hadn’t made it or I would have let you know earlier. So please accept my lame apology.
Bay woke up on the day of our departure at 5 AM (30 minutes before our alarm as set) and said to me that it looked clear and she could see stars in the sky and no clouds. Once again we (down to 12 now having lost Frank and Lidia due to Frank’s sickness in the night) boarded the bus and headed to the airport. It was hazy with the smog but I could see that there were no clouds in the sky, no wind, and I thought that for sure we would go today. If I would have flown, then certainly they would. By the time I got through security, I could not see any of the others in our group and thought they all couldn’t be in the bathroom and then worried if I had missed the boarding. Thankfully I had not and they were waiting for me outside the terminal. We walked to the Buddha Airlines Beech 1900 and I walked all the way to the rear to seat 9C, with Pat beside me in 9A. We took off through the haze and broke out of it about 2000 feet above the ground, and oh, what a sight! An entire mountain range, the snowcovered Himalayas, stretched as far as the eye could see from left to right. We compared the differently configured mountain peaks we were passing with those drawn on a handout we were given by the airline, and then the stewardess came and showed us where we were on the route and what mountains were opposite the plane. Everest was to come last as we flew easterly at about 26,000 feet (for those twin engine and jet pilots out there, is that possible that we were that high?). Each passenger was taken up to the cockpit for a view from there and what a view it was, with Everest and Lhotse just ahead on the left, and snow blowing off their peaks in the early morning westerly wind at 29000 feet! Returning to my seat in the rear, Everest soon appeared out my window and I took pictures of it with my two cameras,and even with my iPhone, some with the zoom on and many without, some with the wing in the picture, some without, and so on for about 30 pictures. Everyone was giddy, with those on the right side of the plane chomping on the bit for the plane to turn around so that the view of Everest would be out their window. Poor Pat had the battery die in his camera so he was busy taking pictures with his cell phone, and I told him I would make duplicates of mine and send them to him. We turned to head back to the west, and those on the right side of the plane got their turn. After what seemed a very short time, we were landing back in Kathmandu, the plane filled with giddy passengers. It’s the first time I ever saw Bay (seated two seats in front of me) have a grin from ear to ear while sitting in a plane the duration of en entire flight (or even at any point in a flight - she’s not really a good flier).
Of course, I had to buy the t-shirt and the CD, and an extra CD for Pat. Then we boarded the bus and rode it back in the heavy traffic to the hotel to pack up and leave at 12:30. Actually Bay and I watched the Republic Day Parade (Republic Day is like our 4th of July) in New Delhi - of course, in heavy fog which lifted around noon.
RP.
In very hectic conditions at the airport, we finally boarded an Air India flight back to New Delhi arriving at about 6:00 for our 11 PM departure. We had to go through Immigration, collect our bag and then go to the ticket counter to get our tickets home, through Immigration again, then security to the gate. To make a long story shorter, our flight was delayed 12 hours resulting in us being bussed to a hotel at 3:30 in the morning, our getting 2 hours of sleep, and then getting back on the bus back to the airport arriving at the gate five minutes later than the scheduled departure time. We boarded and the others arrived over the next 45 minutes and we departed at about noon.
My seat mate was “RP”, an Indian patent attorney from New Delhi. We had a far-ranging conversation over the course of the next 15 hours, talking for probably 10 of the 15 hours, and about everything. Among the topics we discussed were: giving money to the handicapped - RP informed me that often a “boss” will pick a handicapped person to sit at a strategic place near a tourist spot, look pitiable, and after his day’s collections, all the money would go to the boss to be distributed by the boss; a tour guide getting a cut of the things sold on the bus from the hawkers and vendors, and the prices seeming reasonable after the high prices quoted previously by the hawkers even though the items were being sold for double what they should have sold for (for example, a set of postcards would be quoted as costing 300 rupees by the hawker, sell for 100 rupees in the bus, when they really should have sold for 50 rupees or $1.10); his understanding that the women want to be under Taliban control because their safety was secured and they were then provided for without prostituting themselves, and wearing the burkhas protected them from rape, etc., and my response that the educated women were certainly not for the security provided by the Taliban that came with the denial of education and the denial of jobs to women, and that this argument, as pointed out by Lincoln, was the argument used by tyrants all over the world for thousands of years, and that if you ate the bread created by the sweat of another man’s brow, you were benefiting from a form of slavery or bondage,and that under our Declaration of Independence, liberty was not a right that could be alienated or waived by anyone, most especially by one enslaved, in exchange for security or anything else; the failure of Indians not being able to work as a group resulting from their lack of education in how to work as a group, whereas Americans are taught to work as a group at a very early age in their sports teams - Indians don’t have sports teams in their schools, their not being able to afford them: the issue over whether corporations are a “person” under the law entitled to the legal protections of the legal system and Constitution, and the situation in India where they need corporations to advance despite the drawbacks of corporations I had outlined (“We would love to have oppressive corporations in India.” I could suggest a few large banks I would gladly give them.); the federal system in India holding up their growth as a nation (having to stop at every state border and paying a tax to enter the state, different licensing requirements and not recognizing the license of another state to permit a bus driver to drive in another state) compared with the US which, in our Constitution, gives Congress the power to regulate interstate commerce and States can’t make laws creating taxes on interstate commerce; the Hindu religion and the doctrine of ahimsa (“without violence”), living your life in a manner not to harm others, whether vegetarians are destroying living creatures and the work of Dr. Bose; my birography of Buddha; and on and on. What a treat for me.
So what did I learn after speaking with RP? I learned that not all I experienced is really true, that some of what I experienced is an illusion (for example the situation with the begging handicapped person), that India is overwhelming in its complexity and, like warrior poses in Yoga, can only be endured in short doses at the beginning. I’m very glad to be beck home but will always look forward to another new experience.
Thank you, Bay and Sugar, for making this all possible.
Love, Nat, Dad, DB, Matt et al.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Flight to Everest; bus ride to Nagarkot
January 25, 2010
Flight to Everest and Two Monks
I awoke at 1 AM and lay there thinking - if I was going for the summit of Everest today, I would already have been hiking for an hour in the darkness but with a headlamp to show the way. It’s a big push on summit day, and you have to start early to make it up and start back down before nightfall. Up over the Golden Band, then one step at a time, resting often, trying to catch my breath, doubting whether I would make it, just counting ten more steps, stopping, then counting ten more and so on. How many times have I had that daydream? I fell back asleep and woke again at 4:35. With the alarm set for 5:15, it wasn’t worth trying to get back to sleep. I lay there thinking and understanding that I had to let this go. Just experience what I have and don’t grasp for what I don’t have and may not get even if I sought it. So I concluded there would be no disappointment if I did not make it.
The alarm went off on time and Bay scurried into the shower while I made sure of the cameras, put out my clothes and locked the room safe. Then I showered and went to breakfast, Bay staying behind, deciding that our flight would not agree with her eating breakfast. We were all early - no stragglers today as 15 eager beavers boarded and spread out on the bus, with Pat giving us a play-by-play description of the Saints-Vikings game on the way to the airport.
Our Yeti Excursion guide handed out our tickets in Russian roulette fashion, shuffling them and then holding them in one hand fanned out for us to each pick one. That way it would be fair and the first one might not necessarily get the best seat. But every seat on the Beech 1900 is a window seat although some are over the wing. I picked 8C and Bay picked 7A, both seats in the back with the best views. Aren’t we the lucky ones? We passed through about 3 or 4 levels of security although none of it was very rigorous as we were in the national flight part of the airport. We were told to wait for a determination of whether we would go or not. I bought a baseball hat with Mt. Everest on it (of course), and looked out to see the usual haze and high scattered clouds to the northeast, our intended direction of flight. It looked pretty good although not perfect. After 30 minutes or so, an attractive young Nepali woman in a uniform came and told us, “The mountains are not visible today so the flight to Everest has been cancelled.” There were a few gasps and many anguished looks. On the way back to the bus, there was a lot of discussion about how disappointed they were, and how good the weather looked, and could we go tomorrow, etc., etc.
When we were all on the bus, I turned from my front row seat and told everyone this story of two monks, an elder monk and a young monk. They were walking down a road when they came upon a pretty young woman in a long dress who was waiting by the side of the muddy road. The elder monk asked her if he could give her a lift across the muddy road so that she would not get her beautiful dress dirty. She replied that she would like a lift. So she got up on his back and he took her across the road. The monks continued walking down the road in silence. Five hours passed, then six hours. At that time the young monk turned to the elder monk, and said, “Father, a while ago, you gave a young girl a lift across the road. That was unusual and we don’t normally do things like that. Why did you do that?” The elder monk turned to the young monk and replied, “I let that girl down from my back over six hours ago. And you are still carrying her after all this time?”
It’s all about letting go and what a great example we had today. It is past.
Journey to Nagarkot
After returning to the hotel and going shopping in the shops here in the hotel and on the hotel premises (Bay shopping and me accompanying her), and resting in our room for a bit, we embarked on an arduous bus ride, through Kathmandu and its environs, through roads under construction, traffic jams and generally awful traffic conditions, to a one lane, paved road into the “foothills”. The foothills range from 5-6000 feet to 9500 feet in elevation. I wonder what they would call Cadillac “Mountain.” Of course, it made it very exciting when we met dump trucks, other buses, and just about anything going the opposite way and there was quite a lot of traffic for this narrow road with no side guards and dropoffs of hundreds of feet all the way up to Nagarkot at 7,500 feet. The land is all farm land and woodland with Himalayan pines and terraced fields. Apparently, the farmers have to pay rent to the government of 20% of their annual yield. The purpose of the trip was to have lunch in a country restaurant and eat really good fresh food and the view of the snowcapped Himalayans in the distance. The food was really great. I had chicken that looked and tasted like steak, potatoes and noodles. Then Shankar asked me to join him “because I had an interest in Indian matters” and shared his lunch of rice with lentil soup used as the sauce, and chicken curry. It was really delicious and it was nice of him to ask me to join him and of Susan to pay for my first lunch (she thought she had been mean to me in the visa line at the airport several days ago, but she was mistaken).
But the view of the Himalayans at 2 PM on a sunny afternoon in the mountains is of course obscured by the clouds, as any mountain pilot could tell you. So I bought a poster with the view which is really spectacular.
“This is past.”
Well, not exactly. We’re going to try the Everest flight again tomorrow before we depart for Delhi on our way home. Wish us luck.
Last comments
Shanker (I’m sorry about the different spellings but Friendly Planet had it “-ar” and the correct spelling is “-er”) has been a wonderful guide and has taught us a lot about patience, perseverance, kindness to all of us on the trip and never failing to fulfill a request from anyone. And for sure this has been the best group we have traveled with in Friendly Planet - there were no whiners and those who were most handicapped by age, or size, or whatever were often the ones who made the greatest effort and never complained in the roughest of conditions.
On a completely different tack, I have gotten the distinct feeling from Shankar that India is on the brink of war with Pakistan. The attack on Mumbai from those trained in Pakistan, and the lack of a military response from India does not sit well with Indians. They will take any excuse and be on the march.
Finally, I want to thank those who followed along and sent us encouraging words or questions or comments, some touch from home. We really are in a different world over here and your contacts were much appreciated from both of us.
Namaste, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB et al.
PS Bay thinks no one reads them anyway. Of course, she said I was “full of crap” today. Is it time to come home? Just kidding. She is a wonderful companion with a wonderful sense of humor. I have enjoyed all our trips together and am thankful for her company. She had a rough day today, when finally getting into the mountains and the fresh air and being under the weather. She’s had a cramp and been miserable once we left for the mountains. At 8:20 PM, she seems to be doing better.
PPS And I can’t wait to come home to my Sugar.
Flight to Everest and Two Monks
I awoke at 1 AM and lay there thinking - if I was going for the summit of Everest today, I would already have been hiking for an hour in the darkness but with a headlamp to show the way. It’s a big push on summit day, and you have to start early to make it up and start back down before nightfall. Up over the Golden Band, then one step at a time, resting often, trying to catch my breath, doubting whether I would make it, just counting ten more steps, stopping, then counting ten more and so on. How many times have I had that daydream? I fell back asleep and woke again at 4:35. With the alarm set for 5:15, it wasn’t worth trying to get back to sleep. I lay there thinking and understanding that I had to let this go. Just experience what I have and don’t grasp for what I don’t have and may not get even if I sought it. So I concluded there would be no disappointment if I did not make it.
The alarm went off on time and Bay scurried into the shower while I made sure of the cameras, put out my clothes and locked the room safe. Then I showered and went to breakfast, Bay staying behind, deciding that our flight would not agree with her eating breakfast. We were all early - no stragglers today as 15 eager beavers boarded and spread out on the bus, with Pat giving us a play-by-play description of the Saints-Vikings game on the way to the airport.
Our Yeti Excursion guide handed out our tickets in Russian roulette fashion, shuffling them and then holding them in one hand fanned out for us to each pick one. That way it would be fair and the first one might not necessarily get the best seat. But every seat on the Beech 1900 is a window seat although some are over the wing. I picked 8C and Bay picked 7A, both seats in the back with the best views. Aren’t we the lucky ones? We passed through about 3 or 4 levels of security although none of it was very rigorous as we were in the national flight part of the airport. We were told to wait for a determination of whether we would go or not. I bought a baseball hat with Mt. Everest on it (of course), and looked out to see the usual haze and high scattered clouds to the northeast, our intended direction of flight. It looked pretty good although not perfect. After 30 minutes or so, an attractive young Nepali woman in a uniform came and told us, “The mountains are not visible today so the flight to Everest has been cancelled.” There were a few gasps and many anguished looks. On the way back to the bus, there was a lot of discussion about how disappointed they were, and how good the weather looked, and could we go tomorrow, etc., etc.
When we were all on the bus, I turned from my front row seat and told everyone this story of two monks, an elder monk and a young monk. They were walking down a road when they came upon a pretty young woman in a long dress who was waiting by the side of the muddy road. The elder monk asked her if he could give her a lift across the muddy road so that she would not get her beautiful dress dirty. She replied that she would like a lift. So she got up on his back and he took her across the road. The monks continued walking down the road in silence. Five hours passed, then six hours. At that time the young monk turned to the elder monk, and said, “Father, a while ago, you gave a young girl a lift across the road. That was unusual and we don’t normally do things like that. Why did you do that?” The elder monk turned to the young monk and replied, “I let that girl down from my back over six hours ago. And you are still carrying her after all this time?”
It’s all about letting go and what a great example we had today. It is past.
Journey to Nagarkot
After returning to the hotel and going shopping in the shops here in the hotel and on the hotel premises (Bay shopping and me accompanying her), and resting in our room for a bit, we embarked on an arduous bus ride, through Kathmandu and its environs, through roads under construction, traffic jams and generally awful traffic conditions, to a one lane, paved road into the “foothills”. The foothills range from 5-6000 feet to 9500 feet in elevation. I wonder what they would call Cadillac “Mountain.” Of course, it made it very exciting when we met dump trucks, other buses, and just about anything going the opposite way and there was quite a lot of traffic for this narrow road with no side guards and dropoffs of hundreds of feet all the way up to Nagarkot at 7,500 feet. The land is all farm land and woodland with Himalayan pines and terraced fields. Apparently, the farmers have to pay rent to the government of 20% of their annual yield. The purpose of the trip was to have lunch in a country restaurant and eat really good fresh food and the view of the snowcapped Himalayans in the distance. The food was really great. I had chicken that looked and tasted like steak, potatoes and noodles. Then Shankar asked me to join him “because I had an interest in Indian matters” and shared his lunch of rice with lentil soup used as the sauce, and chicken curry. It was really delicious and it was nice of him to ask me to join him and of Susan to pay for my first lunch (she thought she had been mean to me in the visa line at the airport several days ago, but she was mistaken).
But the view of the Himalayans at 2 PM on a sunny afternoon in the mountains is of course obscured by the clouds, as any mountain pilot could tell you. So I bought a poster with the view which is really spectacular.
“This is past.”
Well, not exactly. We’re going to try the Everest flight again tomorrow before we depart for Delhi on our way home. Wish us luck.
Last comments
Shanker (I’m sorry about the different spellings but Friendly Planet had it “-ar” and the correct spelling is “-er”) has been a wonderful guide and has taught us a lot about patience, perseverance, kindness to all of us on the trip and never failing to fulfill a request from anyone. And for sure this has been the best group we have traveled with in Friendly Planet - there were no whiners and those who were most handicapped by age, or size, or whatever were often the ones who made the greatest effort and never complained in the roughest of conditions.
On a completely different tack, I have gotten the distinct feeling from Shankar that India is on the brink of war with Pakistan. The attack on Mumbai from those trained in Pakistan, and the lack of a military response from India does not sit well with Indians. They will take any excuse and be on the march.
Finally, I want to thank those who followed along and sent us encouraging words or questions or comments, some touch from home. We really are in a different world over here and your contacts were much appreciated from both of us.
Namaste, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB et al.
PS Bay thinks no one reads them anyway. Of course, she said I was “full of crap” today. Is it time to come home? Just kidding. She is a wonderful companion with a wonderful sense of humor. I have enjoyed all our trips together and am thankful for her company. She had a rough day today, when finally getting into the mountains and the fresh air and being under the weather. She’s had a cramp and been miserable once we left for the mountains. At 8:20 PM, she seems to be doing better.
PPS And I can’t wait to come home to my Sugar.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Monkey Temple
January 24, 2010
Ashrams
The banks of the Ganges are lined with ashrams, “old age homes”, where the elderly go to live their last days so that they will be assured of being cremated and having their ashes spread on the waters of the Ganges, the most sacred river, in Varanasi, the most sacred town. Actually, they’re not really old age homes. They are places that you go when you are ready to give up your materialistic life and seek nirvana. Usually, this is when you are older but not necessarily so. A young person can also renounce the physical world and enter an ashram. In fact, Shantar told us of a man in his home town with four children who owned a successful car parts business decided at the age of 45 that he and his wife would travel to Varanasi and live in an ashram. So he gave his business to his two sons and his two daughters, told them the business was theirs, and that they should lead their own life now and not have any further regard for their parents. He and his wife went away to live in an ashram in Varanasi, and the children would visit them on holidays. But recently the father told them that they have children and their own lives and that they should not visit anymore. The parents wanted nothing further to do with this world and wanted to concentrate on their spiritual journey. I asked if there were caregivers who took care of the elderly in the ashrams and Shantar told me they help each other.
Kathmandu - Monkey Temple
We started our tour with a visit to Swayambhunath , known as the “Monkey Temple.” We took the bus us a hill and then climbed another couple hundred feet to the temple. There were monkeys all over, dogs sleeping in the sun, pigeons alighting on the approximately 50 foot high temple enshrouded with scaffolding for repairs and cleaning, and monks walking around the temple turning the prayer wheels surrounding the temple at shoulder level. It’s a beautiful day with a beautiful sky but the great view of Kathmandu we were promised was lost in the haze and pollution.
This is a special temple, about 2000 years old. This is the site where Manjushri discovered the lotus growing in the ancient Kathamandu Valley Lake, the beginning of the beginning for the Hindu and Buddhist faiths. Each of the four sides of the Buddha is painted with the eyes of Buddha, and above and between the two eyes is a red third eye, the eye of God (from which comes the red dot between the eyes of Indian Hindus), and the nose is what looks like a question mark but is the Nepal figure for the number “1”, a symbol of unity. Surprisingly, the small square included several vendors of various tourist items.
Durbar Square and Anu
This Square is in old Kathmandu, includes the former royal palace and contains buildings over 1200 years old. According to our Nepal guide, Mr. Balram, the pagoda was designed by the Nepalese and spread from here to China and Japan. There are several in or near the square. When we parked the bus, there were large army ceremonies on a fenced in field but we left those and walked for 10 minutes to the Square. There we were met by the usual hawkers, mine named Anu, aged 12, trying to sell me a metal contraption that must have been the original transformer, a child’s toy that transforms itself into other forms. I told him that I wouldn’t buy 1 for $5 or any price because I had no use for it, but he continued to follow me so I started asking him questions, both in Hindi and in English, then in French, Spanish and Russian as he said he spoke 12 languages. He doesn’t go to school and is home-schooled and his father sells statues or something. I climbed the steps of one pagoda and sat alone observing all the hustle and bustle for 15 minutes or so and when I came down, Anu was there to greet me. I walked around taking pictures and he would tell me what I was photographing and if I turned around, he would say pointing at the temple opposite me, “That is a temple to Shiva.” Then we would discuss the three main gods in the Hindu religion and on and on. Finally it was time to go and we all gathered for the 10 minute walk back to the bus. And Anu was with me every step of the way. And as I stepped up on the bus, he called after me that I could have one of these toys for $1 or 3 for $2. Thinking back on it, after talking with him and having him inform me about the buildings and statues, I should have asked him if I could hire him as a guide for $5. Certainly his company and the information he provided was worth every penny of that. That is what I should have done and I’m sorry I didn’t. Susan thinks that I attract the children because I’m so tall. The hawkers I have dealt in the past 2 days have been handsome, clean and well-spoken, and they have brightened my visit (and shielded me from other hawkers as others don’t approach me when they see I am conversing with a hawker, especially if they hear me speaking even a little Hindi).
Boudhanath Stupa
This temple is the second largest Buddhist temple in the world and fills a square surrounded with restaurants and shops, including a Thanka Painting school and shop. The temple structure is similar to the Monkey Temple with the eyes, middle eye, number “1”, but did not have any scaffolding, is much bigger, and had hundreds of colorful prayer flags running to the top of the temple steeple. Again, with the beautiful cirrus-streaked blue sky, the white dome representing the lotus flower, and the golden steeple, the pictures should be good. Many monks in red robes walked around the temple in a clockwise direction turning the prayer wheels as they passed. When we were ready to leave at 4:45, there was an army of people all going around the temple in the same direction, many with prayer beads (108) chanting their sacred prayer. It is quite a sight. And most familiar to me was the same music coming from a CD store that Laura plays for us at yoga. What a nice touch that was. Thank you Laura. I wonder if the music is the sacred prayer sung over and over.
The people in the red robes are “lamas” like the Dalai Lama, meaning Great Lama (or priest). Those in orange robes (Monkey Temple) follow a different form of Buddhism and are monks.
Pashupatinath
This is a most sacred temple in Nepal and is where the Hindus cremate their deceased love ones apparently 24 hours a day. We are not permitted to visit it but can view the funeral pyres from across the near-dry, garbage filled tributary of the Ganges. So there we are about 200 feet away snapping pictures of their sorrowful ceremony and the flames being stoked 10-20 feet high. It seemed disrespectful to me.
When a loved one dies, the family members must observe a minimum 13-day period of mourning, eating nothing but fruit and vegetables, no salt and no meat, and also may not go to work for the mourning period.
Miscellaneous
Nepal has a population of 27 million, 2.5 million of whom live in the Kathmandu Valley.
Kathmandu, even in January, is temperate with highs in the day of about 70 degrees and lows in the 40’s, and with temps no higher than 85 in the summertime. They never have snow here.
Himalaya means “land of the snow.” That is where it snows.
65% of Nepal is mountainous, and the country is only 110 miles from north to south.
The life expectancy of men is longer than for women, about 65 to 64.
Education is free in the public school through 5th class, but not compulsory.
Nepal is governed by a coalition government, with the Maoists in opposition, and the hardest challenge facing the government is trying to merge the Maoist rebels into the armed services.
Nepal does not follow the western calendar. Here the year is 2067 whereas the year for Buddhists is 2550 or the number of years since Buddha’s birth. The New Year for the Nepalese calendar is in April.
Kathmandu is in the midst of a garbage strike so everywhere we go we see garbage in the streets.
Tomorrow morning, at 7, we are scheduled to leave for the airport to catch our flight to Everest. It’s just a flyby in a 16 seat Beechcraft but Bay and I are very excited, in a non-grasping way. If it doesn’t happen, I will let it go. Then we are to travel by bus into the mountains to visit a village, view the Himalayas, and have lunch. That will be a treat as well.
So with anticipation, like a Christmas Eve, Bay and I wish you all a good night. Love, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB and all that
Ashrams
The banks of the Ganges are lined with ashrams, “old age homes”, where the elderly go to live their last days so that they will be assured of being cremated and having their ashes spread on the waters of the Ganges, the most sacred river, in Varanasi, the most sacred town. Actually, they’re not really old age homes. They are places that you go when you are ready to give up your materialistic life and seek nirvana. Usually, this is when you are older but not necessarily so. A young person can also renounce the physical world and enter an ashram. In fact, Shantar told us of a man in his home town with four children who owned a successful car parts business decided at the age of 45 that he and his wife would travel to Varanasi and live in an ashram. So he gave his business to his two sons and his two daughters, told them the business was theirs, and that they should lead their own life now and not have any further regard for their parents. He and his wife went away to live in an ashram in Varanasi, and the children would visit them on holidays. But recently the father told them that they have children and their own lives and that they should not visit anymore. The parents wanted nothing further to do with this world and wanted to concentrate on their spiritual journey. I asked if there were caregivers who took care of the elderly in the ashrams and Shantar told me they help each other.
Kathmandu - Monkey Temple
We started our tour with a visit to Swayambhunath , known as the “Monkey Temple.” We took the bus us a hill and then climbed another couple hundred feet to the temple. There were monkeys all over, dogs sleeping in the sun, pigeons alighting on the approximately 50 foot high temple enshrouded with scaffolding for repairs and cleaning, and monks walking around the temple turning the prayer wheels surrounding the temple at shoulder level. It’s a beautiful day with a beautiful sky but the great view of Kathmandu we were promised was lost in the haze and pollution.
This is a special temple, about 2000 years old. This is the site where Manjushri discovered the lotus growing in the ancient Kathamandu Valley Lake, the beginning of the beginning for the Hindu and Buddhist faiths. Each of the four sides of the Buddha is painted with the eyes of Buddha, and above and between the two eyes is a red third eye, the eye of God (from which comes the red dot between the eyes of Indian Hindus), and the nose is what looks like a question mark but is the Nepal figure for the number “1”, a symbol of unity. Surprisingly, the small square included several vendors of various tourist items.
Durbar Square and Anu
This Square is in old Kathmandu, includes the former royal palace and contains buildings over 1200 years old. According to our Nepal guide, Mr. Balram, the pagoda was designed by the Nepalese and spread from here to China and Japan. There are several in or near the square. When we parked the bus, there were large army ceremonies on a fenced in field but we left those and walked for 10 minutes to the Square. There we were met by the usual hawkers, mine named Anu, aged 12, trying to sell me a metal contraption that must have been the original transformer, a child’s toy that transforms itself into other forms. I told him that I wouldn’t buy 1 for $5 or any price because I had no use for it, but he continued to follow me so I started asking him questions, both in Hindi and in English, then in French, Spanish and Russian as he said he spoke 12 languages. He doesn’t go to school and is home-schooled and his father sells statues or something. I climbed the steps of one pagoda and sat alone observing all the hustle and bustle for 15 minutes or so and when I came down, Anu was there to greet me. I walked around taking pictures and he would tell me what I was photographing and if I turned around, he would say pointing at the temple opposite me, “That is a temple to Shiva.” Then we would discuss the three main gods in the Hindu religion and on and on. Finally it was time to go and we all gathered for the 10 minute walk back to the bus. And Anu was with me every step of the way. And as I stepped up on the bus, he called after me that I could have one of these toys for $1 or 3 for $2. Thinking back on it, after talking with him and having him inform me about the buildings and statues, I should have asked him if I could hire him as a guide for $5. Certainly his company and the information he provided was worth every penny of that. That is what I should have done and I’m sorry I didn’t. Susan thinks that I attract the children because I’m so tall. The hawkers I have dealt in the past 2 days have been handsome, clean and well-spoken, and they have brightened my visit (and shielded me from other hawkers as others don’t approach me when they see I am conversing with a hawker, especially if they hear me speaking even a little Hindi).
Boudhanath Stupa
This temple is the second largest Buddhist temple in the world and fills a square surrounded with restaurants and shops, including a Thanka Painting school and shop. The temple structure is similar to the Monkey Temple with the eyes, middle eye, number “1”, but did not have any scaffolding, is much bigger, and had hundreds of colorful prayer flags running to the top of the temple steeple. Again, with the beautiful cirrus-streaked blue sky, the white dome representing the lotus flower, and the golden steeple, the pictures should be good. Many monks in red robes walked around the temple in a clockwise direction turning the prayer wheels as they passed. When we were ready to leave at 4:45, there was an army of people all going around the temple in the same direction, many with prayer beads (108) chanting their sacred prayer. It is quite a sight. And most familiar to me was the same music coming from a CD store that Laura plays for us at yoga. What a nice touch that was. Thank you Laura. I wonder if the music is the sacred prayer sung over and over.
The people in the red robes are “lamas” like the Dalai Lama, meaning Great Lama (or priest). Those in orange robes (Monkey Temple) follow a different form of Buddhism and are monks.
Pashupatinath
This is a most sacred temple in Nepal and is where the Hindus cremate their deceased love ones apparently 24 hours a day. We are not permitted to visit it but can view the funeral pyres from across the near-dry, garbage filled tributary of the Ganges. So there we are about 200 feet away snapping pictures of their sorrowful ceremony and the flames being stoked 10-20 feet high. It seemed disrespectful to me.
When a loved one dies, the family members must observe a minimum 13-day period of mourning, eating nothing but fruit and vegetables, no salt and no meat, and also may not go to work for the mourning period.
Miscellaneous
Nepal has a population of 27 million, 2.5 million of whom live in the Kathmandu Valley.
Kathmandu, even in January, is temperate with highs in the day of about 70 degrees and lows in the 40’s, and with temps no higher than 85 in the summertime. They never have snow here.
Himalaya means “land of the snow.” That is where it snows.
65% of Nepal is mountainous, and the country is only 110 miles from north to south.
The life expectancy of men is longer than for women, about 65 to 64.
Education is free in the public school through 5th class, but not compulsory.
Nepal is governed by a coalition government, with the Maoists in opposition, and the hardest challenge facing the government is trying to merge the Maoist rebels into the armed services.
Nepal does not follow the western calendar. Here the year is 2067 whereas the year for Buddhists is 2550 or the number of years since Buddha’s birth. The New Year for the Nepalese calendar is in April.
Kathmandu is in the midst of a garbage strike so everywhere we go we see garbage in the streets.
Tomorrow morning, at 7, we are scheduled to leave for the airport to catch our flight to Everest. It’s just a flyby in a 16 seat Beechcraft but Bay and I are very excited, in a non-grasping way. If it doesn’t happen, I will let it go. Then we are to travel by bus into the mountains to visit a village, view the Himalayas, and have lunch. That will be a treat as well.
So with anticipation, like a Christmas Eve, Bay and I wish you all a good night. Love, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB and all that
Saturday, January 23, 2010
River Ganges boatride and Flight to Kathmandu
January 23, 2010
Nam, Dayo and “As you will”
Up at 4:15 AM for a 6 o’clock departure for a boat cruise down the Ganges River. Seems like a short night. We took the bus through the city and stopped about 10 minutes from the river. We walked the same route as last night, but whereas last night the street was full of dancing boys, statues of Saraswati and loud boom boxes, it was quiet with people just arising, starting their fires on their cement porches, and generally starting their day. We arrived at the Ghat and descended to the waterfront where all 29 of us embarked on a large rowboat - Dennis, you should see the woodwork; quite the craftsmanship. I had met a young boy last night and I told him that I would see him early this morning and buy postcards from him. Amazingly, here he was with his postcards. I asked him his name in Hindi, and he said, “Nam” and then he asked me my name in Hindi and I told him. He tried to sell me other things but I told him that all I wanted was postcards and I appreciated his getting up early to meet me. He was about 14 and for the rest of the time at the Ghats, he and I would look for each other and wave.
Off we went in our vessel, first upriver to see the people immersing themselves, the men in their boxer shorts and the women in their saris. The river is filthy but since the river is the holy river, it is supposed to be cleansing. According to Shanker who will not bathe in the Ganges here, but will in other areas, it is very invigorating and you feel great for about 6 days. Then we turned and proceeded downriver, past the funeral pyres where the dead are being burned so their ashes may be deposited in the sacred Ganges. No pictures are allowed of that unless more than 150 yards away. We are not safe from the hawkers and vendors even out here as several boats approached with a vendor in each and they latched themselves to each side. Several bought items from the vendors charging “morning prices,” i.e. cheaper prices.
We returned to shore after about two hours on the river and started our long trek through a different route of very narrow streets (maybe 10 feet wide) to the bus. Here the hawkers had a field day and were very persistent. I told one that Gandhi would have said to him, “Don’t disrespect yourself and don’t disrespect your guest.” He fell away but the other on the other side of me continued on unabated, “Four for 400 rupees. No, 5 for 400 rupees. Or 6 for 500 rupees. And I’ll through in an extra.” And on and on. I finally decided to change the dynamics and started asking him questions in HIndi and then in English, asking him his name (Dayo), how old he was (20), where he lived (in Varanasi, nearby), how many brothers and sisters he had (4 younger brothers and 1 younger sister), did he have a mother and father (mother deceased and father surviving but not employed), whether he went to school (yes, he was going today at 2), what class he was in (12th), and wishing him good luck with his upcoming exams in March or April. I then asked him a bunch of questions about the Hindi language, having him correct my pronunciation, learning new words, etc. By this time, after about 10 minutes of this, we were nearing our bus. A mother with a sick looking child came by and kept asking me for money so I gave her 100 rupees (about $2.50); then another came by a few minutes later and I thought it was the same as the first mother, but Dayo corrected me pointing out the other mother, so I asked him if I should give her money, and he replied, “As you will.” So I gave her 100 rupees. Then I asked to buy a bead necklace from him for 200 rupees (since he had spent so much time with me and had lost the opportunity to ask others). He gave me the necklace and I gave him the money. He shook my hand and wished me a good trip. I thanked him for his help and wished him good luck in school. I got on the bus and looked back at both Nam and Dayo waving at me. I waved back and smiled. What a nice way to leave India. I finally had found a way to get through so that both of us, the vendor and me, would have some dignity and we could feel good about our encounter. It took me awhile.
Flight to Kathmandu
Traveling in India is an all-day affair. We left the hotel at 10:00 for the Varanasi airport. It was still misty but we thought it might burn off. We waited at the airport for hours until finally boarding the plane at 2:15. The flight was very short, about 45 minutes, and we landed at Kathmandu airport at 3:45 local time (15 minutes ahead of India time). And by the time we got through customs, immigration, retrieved our bags, it was 5 or so, and then another 30 minute bus ride to Soaltee Crowne Plaza Hotel, a beautiful hotel in downtown Kathmandu, a city of 700,000 having an elevation of about 4000 feet with beautiful mountains surrounding the valley in which Kathmandu is situated. We have a free night and spent it having a few beers in the bar with Pat and Kathy, and John and Dawn, and then adjourning to the Italian restaurant with them for dinner.
Pat
As you remember this Vietnam War vet, you should know him in other ways. He has the sweetest wife, Kathy, who is pretty, loving and kind to all, a Florence Nightingale type. But two stories will tell you about Pat, and these are stories he tells about himself.
First, he was asked by a crazy friend of his if he would like to climb Kilimanjaro with him. He thought about it briefly, and then agreed to go along. He say that Kilimanjaro is on the equator, so he packed accordingly. The night before the trek up this 20,000 foot mountain was to begin, everyone had to lay out their clothes and supplies so that the guide could make sure they had everything each one would need. All Pat brought were shorts. So they made him rent some pants from their expedition company. The expedition leader told him he was the third most unprepared hiker he had ever encountered. The first was a woman who was hiking in high heels.
Second, he had gone skiing with Kathy and some others but he didn’t know how to ski. But they stayed on the bunny slope with him awhile as he tried valiantly to learn how to ski. The more he fell, the more tired he got. Finally he told them to go off as he didn’t want to ruin their day. He continued on with his efforts but changing to the rope tow thinking that would be easier than the T- bar. While making one of his ascents on the rope tow, the Special Olympics showed up on the same hill. So when he came down and kept falling, by the time he reached the bottom, one of the Special Olympics chaperones came up and gave him a big hug, telling him how well he had done. Although that was years ago, he recently told the Special Olympics telephone solicitor that he would donate $100 if he could get a gold medal. He sent the money in. The gold medal arrived a couple of weeks before their departure on this trip. Kathy didn’t even know what that was all about. It is even more remarkable when you see this large, 250 pound, shaved 50-year old bald man and think of them mistaking him for a Special Olympian. He’s got a great sense of humor.
Janet
So did you know that Dawn thinks that Bay is 25-28 years old? I think she may become quite insufferable again, until I realize that that must make me about 48.
Thrilled
We’re thrilled to be in Kathmandu and out of the Gangetic plain with all its mist. Tomorrow we do some sightseeing and then on Monday do our Everest flight and then an excursion into the countryside. Bay and I are both excited about all that after all the books we have read about this place. She asked me to leave the curtains open so we can wake up to the sight of the mountains surrounding us.
Good night. Love, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB
Nam, Dayo and “As you will”
Up at 4:15 AM for a 6 o’clock departure for a boat cruise down the Ganges River. Seems like a short night. We took the bus through the city and stopped about 10 minutes from the river. We walked the same route as last night, but whereas last night the street was full of dancing boys, statues of Saraswati and loud boom boxes, it was quiet with people just arising, starting their fires on their cement porches, and generally starting their day. We arrived at the Ghat and descended to the waterfront where all 29 of us embarked on a large rowboat - Dennis, you should see the woodwork; quite the craftsmanship. I had met a young boy last night and I told him that I would see him early this morning and buy postcards from him. Amazingly, here he was with his postcards. I asked him his name in Hindi, and he said, “Nam” and then he asked me my name in Hindi and I told him. He tried to sell me other things but I told him that all I wanted was postcards and I appreciated his getting up early to meet me. He was about 14 and for the rest of the time at the Ghats, he and I would look for each other and wave.
Off we went in our vessel, first upriver to see the people immersing themselves, the men in their boxer shorts and the women in their saris. The river is filthy but since the river is the holy river, it is supposed to be cleansing. According to Shanker who will not bathe in the Ganges here, but will in other areas, it is very invigorating and you feel great for about 6 days. Then we turned and proceeded downriver, past the funeral pyres where the dead are being burned so their ashes may be deposited in the sacred Ganges. No pictures are allowed of that unless more than 150 yards away. We are not safe from the hawkers and vendors even out here as several boats approached with a vendor in each and they latched themselves to each side. Several bought items from the vendors charging “morning prices,” i.e. cheaper prices.
We returned to shore after about two hours on the river and started our long trek through a different route of very narrow streets (maybe 10 feet wide) to the bus. Here the hawkers had a field day and were very persistent. I told one that Gandhi would have said to him, “Don’t disrespect yourself and don’t disrespect your guest.” He fell away but the other on the other side of me continued on unabated, “Four for 400 rupees. No, 5 for 400 rupees. Or 6 for 500 rupees. And I’ll through in an extra.” And on and on. I finally decided to change the dynamics and started asking him questions in HIndi and then in English, asking him his name (Dayo), how old he was (20), where he lived (in Varanasi, nearby), how many brothers and sisters he had (4 younger brothers and 1 younger sister), did he have a mother and father (mother deceased and father surviving but not employed), whether he went to school (yes, he was going today at 2), what class he was in (12th), and wishing him good luck with his upcoming exams in March or April. I then asked him a bunch of questions about the Hindi language, having him correct my pronunciation, learning new words, etc. By this time, after about 10 minutes of this, we were nearing our bus. A mother with a sick looking child came by and kept asking me for money so I gave her 100 rupees (about $2.50); then another came by a few minutes later and I thought it was the same as the first mother, but Dayo corrected me pointing out the other mother, so I asked him if I should give her money, and he replied, “As you will.” So I gave her 100 rupees. Then I asked to buy a bead necklace from him for 200 rupees (since he had spent so much time with me and had lost the opportunity to ask others). He gave me the necklace and I gave him the money. He shook my hand and wished me a good trip. I thanked him for his help and wished him good luck in school. I got on the bus and looked back at both Nam and Dayo waving at me. I waved back and smiled. What a nice way to leave India. I finally had found a way to get through so that both of us, the vendor and me, would have some dignity and we could feel good about our encounter. It took me awhile.
Flight to Kathmandu
Traveling in India is an all-day affair. We left the hotel at 10:00 for the Varanasi airport. It was still misty but we thought it might burn off. We waited at the airport for hours until finally boarding the plane at 2:15. The flight was very short, about 45 minutes, and we landed at Kathmandu airport at 3:45 local time (15 minutes ahead of India time). And by the time we got through customs, immigration, retrieved our bags, it was 5 or so, and then another 30 minute bus ride to Soaltee Crowne Plaza Hotel, a beautiful hotel in downtown Kathmandu, a city of 700,000 having an elevation of about 4000 feet with beautiful mountains surrounding the valley in which Kathmandu is situated. We have a free night and spent it having a few beers in the bar with Pat and Kathy, and John and Dawn, and then adjourning to the Italian restaurant with them for dinner.
Pat
As you remember this Vietnam War vet, you should know him in other ways. He has the sweetest wife, Kathy, who is pretty, loving and kind to all, a Florence Nightingale type. But two stories will tell you about Pat, and these are stories he tells about himself.
First, he was asked by a crazy friend of his if he would like to climb Kilimanjaro with him. He thought about it briefly, and then agreed to go along. He say that Kilimanjaro is on the equator, so he packed accordingly. The night before the trek up this 20,000 foot mountain was to begin, everyone had to lay out their clothes and supplies so that the guide could make sure they had everything each one would need. All Pat brought were shorts. So they made him rent some pants from their expedition company. The expedition leader told him he was the third most unprepared hiker he had ever encountered. The first was a woman who was hiking in high heels.
Second, he had gone skiing with Kathy and some others but he didn’t know how to ski. But they stayed on the bunny slope with him awhile as he tried valiantly to learn how to ski. The more he fell, the more tired he got. Finally he told them to go off as he didn’t want to ruin their day. He continued on with his efforts but changing to the rope tow thinking that would be easier than the T- bar. While making one of his ascents on the rope tow, the Special Olympics showed up on the same hill. So when he came down and kept falling, by the time he reached the bottom, one of the Special Olympics chaperones came up and gave him a big hug, telling him how well he had done. Although that was years ago, he recently told the Special Olympics telephone solicitor that he would donate $100 if he could get a gold medal. He sent the money in. The gold medal arrived a couple of weeks before their departure on this trip. Kathy didn’t even know what that was all about. It is even more remarkable when you see this large, 250 pound, shaved 50-year old bald man and think of them mistaking him for a Special Olympian. He’s got a great sense of humor.
Janet
So did you know that Dawn thinks that Bay is 25-28 years old? I think she may become quite insufferable again, until I realize that that must make me about 48.
Thrilled
We’re thrilled to be in Kathmandu and out of the Gangetic plain with all its mist. Tomorrow we do some sightseeing and then on Monday do our Everest flight and then an excursion into the countryside. Bay and I are both excited about all that after all the books we have read about this place. She asked me to leave the curtains open so we can wake up to the sight of the mountains surrounding us.
Good night. Love, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB
Varanasi
January 22, 2010
Another 12 hour bus ride?
I spent the night under two quilts and slept in my sweatshirt, and took sudafed and two Excedrin PM’s to go to sleep, and sleep I did, waking up at 7 feeling much better. There, that’s out of the way.
We met at 10:30 for our bus ride to the airport but Shanker said that our flight was delayed. Hour after hour went by as we waited by the pool, Bay and I in the swing set, playing ping pong, walking around the pool with Saul and Harry, then transferring to the lobby to do some yoga poses, like plank for extended periods of time, and leg raises, and some warrior poses, and then a restful Shivasana for about 30 minutes. By two or so, everyone was about ready to leave on the bus, but Shanker held out hope. “If we pray to God, everything comes out all right in the end.” And so at 2:30 we boarded the bus and headed for the AIRPORT. That was a thrill. We took Air India flight no. 405 to Varanasi, barely getting in before the mist struck there as well. It’s that whole temperature-dew point spread thing for you pilots. Anyway, we were supposed to remove all our batteries from our cameras, no fluids, no food, we could barely carry on anything if we listened to Shanker. Everyone got patted down and poor Susan, with pins in her thigh and hip, had to drop her pants right down to her ankles in the regular room where the passengers waited for the plane with only a blanket held up for privacy - some privacy, those just entering the room could see right over the blanket. Finally we boarded the plane for a smooth 45 minute flight to Varanasi. PTL. For Hindus, Varanasi is their most holy city and is where they come to die, so that their funeral pyre can be on the shore, and their ashes can be thrown in the Ganges, their most holy river.
Festival of Saraswati
Saraswati is a wife of Brahma, and goddess of wisdom and knowledge. Whereas in Jaipur, they hold a kite festival at this time, here each town or neighborhood in this city of 2.5 million builds a float of Saraswati, and then with drums pounding and loud music playing, the young men follow the float down to the Ghats (steps) to the Ganges River, where they take the statue of the goddess they made, put it in a boat and take it out and throw it in the river. It is made of clay and dirt so it supposedly dissolves in the river. We took the bus partway there, then bicycle rickshaw for 5-10 minutes through a sea of humanity and pounding drums and basses, and then walked another 10 minutes to the Ghats. There we were greeted by a old, short holy man in a yellow and red robe or sari who put red on our foreheads and said we would have good luck and long life. He obviously hadn’t observed our journey to get there. If you weren’t run down by a motorcycle or a small taxi, then maybe a steer would gore you because they were present everywhere. We even encountered some trained geese along with the usual puppies, dogs, bicycles, other rickshaws, flamethrowing young men, just bedlam. It was like what I imagine Mardi Gras to be like. Lots of loud music and dancing, and throngs of people, but not wearing masks, just a yellow band around their head and red painting on their foreheads and also cheeks for some. The students all take part in this festival in the hope that it will give them wisdom and knowledge in the coming year. This festival is only held once a year, and Shanker used to participate in them when he was a kid.
And where were the girls? According to Shanker, sometimes the boys drink (no way!) and harass the girls so they usually have a separate party at their school with their parents. That doesn’t sound like much fun at all.
Miscellaneous
Several have asked about the Indian food. We are definitely not the ones to ask. Today I’ve had scrambled eggs, a croissant and a power bar, along with several bottles of water. It’s the ascetic part of my experience. Actually, I don’t want to get sick so normally I have soup for supper, along with naan, their bread which is delicious. They offer us sandwiches at these government-certified shops we visit, usually lettuce, tomato and cucumber. They look refreshing after a tour. Yesterday I even took one off the tray and then put it back. Good thing. One woman in our group was violently ill all night and she thought it was the sandwich. She was treated by a local doctor and is doing much better. So you can never tell. I know most of you would handle this differently, but to us, staying healthy is number one.
And did I tell you why the cow is their most sacred animal? Where does a baby get its milk? From his mother. And where do the adults get their milk? From the cow so it must be the mother of all adults and worthy of great respect.
Bay wants me to set the alarm for 4:15 as we have to leave the hotel at 6 for our boatride down the Ganges - it’s foggy now so I suspect it will be then. When we return, we have a quick breakfast and then leave at 10 to fly to Kathmandu. It’s 10 now so it’ll be another short night.
May you all have good luck and a long life. Namaste. Nat, Dad, Matt, DB, and whatever other names I may have, have had or will ever have. :-)
Another 12 hour bus ride?
I spent the night under two quilts and slept in my sweatshirt, and took sudafed and two Excedrin PM’s to go to sleep, and sleep I did, waking up at 7 feeling much better. There, that’s out of the way.
We met at 10:30 for our bus ride to the airport but Shanker said that our flight was delayed. Hour after hour went by as we waited by the pool, Bay and I in the swing set, playing ping pong, walking around the pool with Saul and Harry, then transferring to the lobby to do some yoga poses, like plank for extended periods of time, and leg raises, and some warrior poses, and then a restful Shivasana for about 30 minutes. By two or so, everyone was about ready to leave on the bus, but Shanker held out hope. “If we pray to God, everything comes out all right in the end.” And so at 2:30 we boarded the bus and headed for the AIRPORT. That was a thrill. We took Air India flight no. 405 to Varanasi, barely getting in before the mist struck there as well. It’s that whole temperature-dew point spread thing for you pilots. Anyway, we were supposed to remove all our batteries from our cameras, no fluids, no food, we could barely carry on anything if we listened to Shanker. Everyone got patted down and poor Susan, with pins in her thigh and hip, had to drop her pants right down to her ankles in the regular room where the passengers waited for the plane with only a blanket held up for privacy - some privacy, those just entering the room could see right over the blanket. Finally we boarded the plane for a smooth 45 minute flight to Varanasi. PTL. For Hindus, Varanasi is their most holy city and is where they come to die, so that their funeral pyre can be on the shore, and their ashes can be thrown in the Ganges, their most holy river.
Festival of Saraswati
Saraswati is a wife of Brahma, and goddess of wisdom and knowledge. Whereas in Jaipur, they hold a kite festival at this time, here each town or neighborhood in this city of 2.5 million builds a float of Saraswati, and then with drums pounding and loud music playing, the young men follow the float down to the Ghats (steps) to the Ganges River, where they take the statue of the goddess they made, put it in a boat and take it out and throw it in the river. It is made of clay and dirt so it supposedly dissolves in the river. We took the bus partway there, then bicycle rickshaw for 5-10 minutes through a sea of humanity and pounding drums and basses, and then walked another 10 minutes to the Ghats. There we were greeted by a old, short holy man in a yellow and red robe or sari who put red on our foreheads and said we would have good luck and long life. He obviously hadn’t observed our journey to get there. If you weren’t run down by a motorcycle or a small taxi, then maybe a steer would gore you because they were present everywhere. We even encountered some trained geese along with the usual puppies, dogs, bicycles, other rickshaws, flamethrowing young men, just bedlam. It was like what I imagine Mardi Gras to be like. Lots of loud music and dancing, and throngs of people, but not wearing masks, just a yellow band around their head and red painting on their foreheads and also cheeks for some. The students all take part in this festival in the hope that it will give them wisdom and knowledge in the coming year. This festival is only held once a year, and Shanker used to participate in them when he was a kid.
And where were the girls? According to Shanker, sometimes the boys drink (no way!) and harass the girls so they usually have a separate party at their school with their parents. That doesn’t sound like much fun at all.
Miscellaneous
Several have asked about the Indian food. We are definitely not the ones to ask. Today I’ve had scrambled eggs, a croissant and a power bar, along with several bottles of water. It’s the ascetic part of my experience. Actually, I don’t want to get sick so normally I have soup for supper, along with naan, their bread which is delicious. They offer us sandwiches at these government-certified shops we visit, usually lettuce, tomato and cucumber. They look refreshing after a tour. Yesterday I even took one off the tray and then put it back. Good thing. One woman in our group was violently ill all night and she thought it was the sandwich. She was treated by a local doctor and is doing much better. So you can never tell. I know most of you would handle this differently, but to us, staying healthy is number one.
And did I tell you why the cow is their most sacred animal? Where does a baby get its milk? From his mother. And where do the adults get their milk? From the cow so it must be the mother of all adults and worthy of great respect.
Bay wants me to set the alarm for 4:15 as we have to leave the hotel at 6 for our boatride down the Ganges - it’s foggy now so I suspect it will be then. When we return, we have a quick breakfast and then leave at 10 to fly to Kathmandu. It’s 10 now so it’ll be another short night.
May you all have good luck and a long life. Namaste. Nat, Dad, Matt, DB, and whatever other names I may have, have had or will ever have. :-)
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Khajuraho and Why no blog yesterday
January 21, 2010
More on the Taj Mahal
Shah Jehan, the fifth Mughal (Moslem) king, was called back from the battlefield to be with his dying wife. After she died, he built the Taj Mahal in her memory and buried her there as you know. The Taj is built on a high platform 22 feet off the ground and you reach the platform by marble, now wood covered, steps in the front. The platform covers an area of 1,000 plus square feet, with four minarets at each corner of the platform. The minarets are constructed in such a manner that if one were to fall, it would not fall toward the Taj. The main structure is square, with each side measuring 185 feet. There is a bulbous central dome surrounded by four smaller domes, the central dome being topped by a brass finial rising over 220 feet above the ground. The structure is designed to be a replica of God’s throne in paradise. The outer walls are decorated with carvings in the translucent marble, and both inside and outside are inlaid paintings and precious stones. In the central hall are the false tombs, supposedly much more beautiful than the originals that lie beneath the false tombs, within the Taj, a large sandstone mosque to the west (toward Mecca), a large Hindu temple to east (toward the sunrise), and another large red sandstone structure being the gate of entry to the Taj. When Shanker was young, he used to take a rickshaw out there with his friends and play soccer, long before the tourists and the Taj having been taken over and the gardens restored to their present beautiful condition by the Indian government.
Even in the mist, it is spectacular and a wonderful love story. May you all find such a love in your life. In fact, if your love is with you when you are close to death, make him/her promise that he/she will build a monument to your love that will surpass the Taj - we could use one in the US.
Agra to Khajuraho - this trip isn’t for sissies
Trip as planned - wake-up call at 6, bags out by 6:15, breakfast at 6:30, depart hotel at 7:30, depart on train to Jhsansi at 8:30, arrive at Jhansi at 11 and transfer to new bus for trip first to Orchha, a “gorgeous medieval city” with the beauty of the Taj Jehangir Mahal and the Raj Mahal. Then continue on by bus to Khajuraho, check into hotel and “enjoy the balance of the day to explore at your leisure.”
This is the longest cold spell in recent Indian history, and as a result, this is our trip as experienced. Same up to 7:30 when we board bus but learn that the train is not running due to the heavy “mist” and that we will be taking a bus to Jhansi, changing buses there and then on to Khajuraho, a 14 hour trip, but first we will have to return to our rooms so that they can get a bus with the correct licensing to go on this route. So back to the room until 10:30, and then on the bus and off we go in the fog. This route is not often taken by tourists, and used to be a route controlled by robbers, but “not now.” Actually, it was pretty once the fog burned off to a cloudless sky, miles and miles of farmland, but the road was sketchy, with many “Diversions” and a lot of construction. It was two lanes and occupied by the usual, bikes, motorcycles (all small), mopeds, cars, trucks, buses, dogs, pigs, and then passing through the usual towns with their bottlenecks. We stopped for lunch at a beautiful palace that is now a hotel, and had a birthday cake for Ginny. Then back on the bus for a beautiful sunset over the farmlands and a 3-hour trip to cover only 60 miles, arriving at Jhansi at 7 PM.
Going through the countryside, you really see the importance of cow dung - patties of cow dung are everywhere, stacked in different geometric configurations on the ground, containing hundreds of patties, and even covering the roofs of some of the leantos and shacks in the farmyards along the way. They use them as fuel, fuel to heat their houses, to cook their food, to make bricks with in kilns - so you can understand why the cow is sacred and it’s not just because of the milk.
Larry bought us snacks at Jhansi as the bags had to be transferred to another bus because the bus we were in was not licensed to continue further. And Shanker went out and bought us more snacks and a fifth of rum and whiskey and some pop. He’s a smart man, that Shanker, as we polished off both and fell asleep for the anticipated 5-6 hour ride to Khajuraho. The road was horrendous but the driver did a good job in the dark of the night, with the quarter moon off our right side and stars showing in the heavens. As we left Jhansi, we encountered all sorts of vehicles without any lights whatsoever. Maybe they’re ready for their next reincarnation and are trying to rush things. I was able to drift off, no doubt with the aid of the whiskey, and woke up at 12:00 as we entered Khajuraho, and in a few minutes we were checking into our hotel and going to bed. So, most of us having gotten up at 5, it was a long day but well-handled by all. This equanimity is spreading, although strained when there are 4 hours or more between pee breaks.
Federalism
One handicap of the Indian system is their system of federalism where each state has its own taxes and own regulations and fees for buses and presumably trucks traveling between states. So it is plain to see the wisdom our commerce clause in the US Constitution which leaves to the central government the handling of interstate commerce. India’s federal system is why we had to change buses twice and even drivers, and it requires that we stop at the border of each state so that they can check the papers of the bus and the driver, and he can pay the tax for entry. I’m sure there are parts of their government that work better than ours, but this is not one of them.
And a belated happy birthday to Peggy Forster - we would have wished you a happy birthday yesterday if we had gotten in as planned.
So now we’re off to see the erotic sculptures in Khajuraho. More later. Love, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB, et al.
Khajuraho
We had a nice visit to the temples of Khajuraho. The weather is perfect, temp in the low 70’s, no clouds and a slight breeze. For the tour of the temples, we were joined by Anu, a local guide with a master’s degree in Asian languages. He told us that the temples were built 1100 years ago and the site was chosen for several reasons: first, because it is surrounded by a mountain range that would be easier to defend; second, because the foundation of the area is uncracked granite, thus not susceptible to earthquakes. 85 temples were built but only 22 remain. Those carvings on the walls that have been beheaded were defaced by the Moslems as there can be no human images. When this was done, the Hindus left because they can’t worship damaged images. It became a lost city until the British arrived in 1838 and rediscovered it in the deep jungle. Now the 22 remaining temples are being restored and the site is a large site with groomed lawns, bougainvillea, and a BODHI TREE. So of course I took the opportunity to go sit beneath it, facing east, in the asana pose, and had Bay memorialize my hoped for enlightenment with photos. Unfortunately, all I attracted were flies and hawkers yelling at me.
Anu took us to one temple and explained the carving from top to bottom (actually the other way around). The erotic images begin at the lowest level with lust and sexual activities (group sex, homosexuality, lesbianism, and bestiality). Sex is a force which transforms itself according to the Hindus and so the next level of carvings on the temple consists of more typical sex but with numerous poses, and for those who lose the lust, they ascend to the third level of enlightenment. This is a very short (and probably inaccurate) description of tantrism, a means to have sex but in a loving way from which the power of love is transformed into a higher level of love and adoration. And yes, I have plenty of pictures.
After two hours we went by bus to the eastern temples and again Anu explained the carvings to us, one with a girl taking a thorn out of her foot, but because her boobs are so large, she must look through her cleavage and hold her foot in alignment with her cleavage. Another was of a tall dancing girl getting dressed for her performance and getting ankle bells, while another figure was of a girl putting on eyeliner. All the girls have huge breasts, like bowling balls, and they are supposed to represent the ideal.
After all this about the erotic figures, only 5% of the figures of erotic but that is why Khajuraho is one of the most visited sites in India. As Anu said, “Sex sells.”
New quiz
According to Anu, there are six languages where the people write from right to left. All the others write left to right. Why the difference?
Plans
Due to the issues caused by the “mist” in Delhi, we may not be able to get our flight to Veranasi tomorrow, If so, we face another 12 plus hour ride in the bus. We won’t know until 10;30 or so in the morning. Right now, at 5:25 PM, I’m in the room having skipped a visit to a local village. I’m really sorry I missed this but I have come down with a bad cold in the past 24 hours. I hope that I don’t give it to Bay and that I feel better tomorrow.
Love (the higher form) to you all, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB
More on the Taj Mahal
Shah Jehan, the fifth Mughal (Moslem) king, was called back from the battlefield to be with his dying wife. After she died, he built the Taj Mahal in her memory and buried her there as you know. The Taj is built on a high platform 22 feet off the ground and you reach the platform by marble, now wood covered, steps in the front. The platform covers an area of 1,000 plus square feet, with four minarets at each corner of the platform. The minarets are constructed in such a manner that if one were to fall, it would not fall toward the Taj. The main structure is square, with each side measuring 185 feet. There is a bulbous central dome surrounded by four smaller domes, the central dome being topped by a brass finial rising over 220 feet above the ground. The structure is designed to be a replica of God’s throne in paradise. The outer walls are decorated with carvings in the translucent marble, and both inside and outside are inlaid paintings and precious stones. In the central hall are the false tombs, supposedly much more beautiful than the originals that lie beneath the false tombs, within the Taj, a large sandstone mosque to the west (toward Mecca), a large Hindu temple to east (toward the sunrise), and another large red sandstone structure being the gate of entry to the Taj. When Shanker was young, he used to take a rickshaw out there with his friends and play soccer, long before the tourists and the Taj having been taken over and the gardens restored to their present beautiful condition by the Indian government.
Even in the mist, it is spectacular and a wonderful love story. May you all find such a love in your life. In fact, if your love is with you when you are close to death, make him/her promise that he/she will build a monument to your love that will surpass the Taj - we could use one in the US.
Agra to Khajuraho - this trip isn’t for sissies
Trip as planned - wake-up call at 6, bags out by 6:15, breakfast at 6:30, depart hotel at 7:30, depart on train to Jhsansi at 8:30, arrive at Jhansi at 11 and transfer to new bus for trip first to Orchha, a “gorgeous medieval city” with the beauty of the Taj Jehangir Mahal and the Raj Mahal. Then continue on by bus to Khajuraho, check into hotel and “enjoy the balance of the day to explore at your leisure.”
This is the longest cold spell in recent Indian history, and as a result, this is our trip as experienced. Same up to 7:30 when we board bus but learn that the train is not running due to the heavy “mist” and that we will be taking a bus to Jhansi, changing buses there and then on to Khajuraho, a 14 hour trip, but first we will have to return to our rooms so that they can get a bus with the correct licensing to go on this route. So back to the room until 10:30, and then on the bus and off we go in the fog. This route is not often taken by tourists, and used to be a route controlled by robbers, but “not now.” Actually, it was pretty once the fog burned off to a cloudless sky, miles and miles of farmland, but the road was sketchy, with many “Diversions” and a lot of construction. It was two lanes and occupied by the usual, bikes, motorcycles (all small), mopeds, cars, trucks, buses, dogs, pigs, and then passing through the usual towns with their bottlenecks. We stopped for lunch at a beautiful palace that is now a hotel, and had a birthday cake for Ginny. Then back on the bus for a beautiful sunset over the farmlands and a 3-hour trip to cover only 60 miles, arriving at Jhansi at 7 PM.
Going through the countryside, you really see the importance of cow dung - patties of cow dung are everywhere, stacked in different geometric configurations on the ground, containing hundreds of patties, and even covering the roofs of some of the leantos and shacks in the farmyards along the way. They use them as fuel, fuel to heat their houses, to cook their food, to make bricks with in kilns - so you can understand why the cow is sacred and it’s not just because of the milk.
Larry bought us snacks at Jhansi as the bags had to be transferred to another bus because the bus we were in was not licensed to continue further. And Shanker went out and bought us more snacks and a fifth of rum and whiskey and some pop. He’s a smart man, that Shanker, as we polished off both and fell asleep for the anticipated 5-6 hour ride to Khajuraho. The road was horrendous but the driver did a good job in the dark of the night, with the quarter moon off our right side and stars showing in the heavens. As we left Jhansi, we encountered all sorts of vehicles without any lights whatsoever. Maybe they’re ready for their next reincarnation and are trying to rush things. I was able to drift off, no doubt with the aid of the whiskey, and woke up at 12:00 as we entered Khajuraho, and in a few minutes we were checking into our hotel and going to bed. So, most of us having gotten up at 5, it was a long day but well-handled by all. This equanimity is spreading, although strained when there are 4 hours or more between pee breaks.
Federalism
One handicap of the Indian system is their system of federalism where each state has its own taxes and own regulations and fees for buses and presumably trucks traveling between states. So it is plain to see the wisdom our commerce clause in the US Constitution which leaves to the central government the handling of interstate commerce. India’s federal system is why we had to change buses twice and even drivers, and it requires that we stop at the border of each state so that they can check the papers of the bus and the driver, and he can pay the tax for entry. I’m sure there are parts of their government that work better than ours, but this is not one of them.
And a belated happy birthday to Peggy Forster - we would have wished you a happy birthday yesterday if we had gotten in as planned.
So now we’re off to see the erotic sculptures in Khajuraho. More later. Love, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB, et al.
Khajuraho
We had a nice visit to the temples of Khajuraho. The weather is perfect, temp in the low 70’s, no clouds and a slight breeze. For the tour of the temples, we were joined by Anu, a local guide with a master’s degree in Asian languages. He told us that the temples were built 1100 years ago and the site was chosen for several reasons: first, because it is surrounded by a mountain range that would be easier to defend; second, because the foundation of the area is uncracked granite, thus not susceptible to earthquakes. 85 temples were built but only 22 remain. Those carvings on the walls that have been beheaded were defaced by the Moslems as there can be no human images. When this was done, the Hindus left because they can’t worship damaged images. It became a lost city until the British arrived in 1838 and rediscovered it in the deep jungle. Now the 22 remaining temples are being restored and the site is a large site with groomed lawns, bougainvillea, and a BODHI TREE. So of course I took the opportunity to go sit beneath it, facing east, in the asana pose, and had Bay memorialize my hoped for enlightenment with photos. Unfortunately, all I attracted were flies and hawkers yelling at me.
Anu took us to one temple and explained the carving from top to bottom (actually the other way around). The erotic images begin at the lowest level with lust and sexual activities (group sex, homosexuality, lesbianism, and bestiality). Sex is a force which transforms itself according to the Hindus and so the next level of carvings on the temple consists of more typical sex but with numerous poses, and for those who lose the lust, they ascend to the third level of enlightenment. This is a very short (and probably inaccurate) description of tantrism, a means to have sex but in a loving way from which the power of love is transformed into a higher level of love and adoration. And yes, I have plenty of pictures.
After two hours we went by bus to the eastern temples and again Anu explained the carvings to us, one with a girl taking a thorn out of her foot, but because her boobs are so large, she must look through her cleavage and hold her foot in alignment with her cleavage. Another was of a tall dancing girl getting dressed for her performance and getting ankle bells, while another figure was of a girl putting on eyeliner. All the girls have huge breasts, like bowling balls, and they are supposed to represent the ideal.
After all this about the erotic figures, only 5% of the figures of erotic but that is why Khajuraho is one of the most visited sites in India. As Anu said, “Sex sells.”
New quiz
According to Anu, there are six languages where the people write from right to left. All the others write left to right. Why the difference?
Plans
Due to the issues caused by the “mist” in Delhi, we may not be able to get our flight to Veranasi tomorrow, If so, we face another 12 plus hour ride in the bus. We won’t know until 10;30 or so in the morning. Right now, at 5:25 PM, I’m in the room having skipped a visit to a local village. I’m really sorry I missed this but I have come down with a bad cold in the past 24 hours. I hope that I don’t give it to Bay and that I feel better tomorrow.
Love (the higher form) to you all, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Agra Fort and Taj Mahal
January 19, 2010
Miscellany
Birds - we have seen light green birds, both at Amber Fort and yesterday. They look like parrots but we don’t know the name of them. So we call them “green Indian birds.” And outside now, there are many, many birds adding to the cacophony, and at times drowning out the distant early-morning honking. P. S. Shankar says they’re parakeets, and parrots are much bigger, holding his hands about 2 1/2 feet apart!
Taj Mahal is an experience, according to Shankar. Yes, it is beautiful when you look at a picture or a postcard, but you only feel the presence of this great love when you are there. He has been there many times and it is always a new experience to him.
Meals - Bay has two bananas, while I have scrambled, watery eggs and a croissant or two with jam, and watermelon and pineapple squares; Bay and I usually have a power bar for lunch with water; and for dinner, Bay has had margherita pizza twice, and I have the buffet consisting mostly of rice and some chicken if I can find it, and last night also had a margherita pizza, of course with a couple of beers (thereby violating one of the Five Prohibitions diminishing my chances of attaining nibbana). Last night, for two pizzas and three beers, the cost was 1167 rupees or about $25 and the tip was 200 rupees, or $4.50 which is a little high (10% is recommended). The dinner at the restaurant with the dancing girls flame-eating boy, etc. was 550 rupees or $12 without drinks. So it is more expensive in the hotels.
A surprise at the palaces and forts is that a guard will ask if you want to take a picture of him beside the cannon or marble elephant and you do because he is all dressed up in a fancy military uniform. So you take the picture and then he immediately comes up to you with his hand out and asks for a “teep.” Can you imagine the soldiers at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, or those at Buckingham Palace asking for a tip after you take their picture? I was shocked the first time it happened. I gave him about 10 or 20 rupees, and they look disappointed. Even on the elephant ride, I gave the driver 100 rupees when we were advised to give no more than 50 rupees, and he looked very disappointed and said, “No, 200 rupees.” No matter what you pay them, looking disappointed at what they are given is part of the dance. A boy came up to the bus yesterday and pleaded with Bay through the closed window for a pen by miming writing on his hand. When she had dug one out of her backpack, he was gone to another group 40 or 50 feet away. When the bus started moving, he looked over and she threw the pen at him. He picked it up, looking disappointed of course, and then asked for money.
The power here has been going off every ten minutes or so for the past 40 minutes, but it has been coming right back on. It is a little disconcerting - like now it just went off again. What’s THAT all about? And now it’s back on. Better go shave.
Our bus is comfortable and the seats are almost separated enough for me to sit with my knees straight forward, but not quite so I have to encroach onto part of Bay’s space, one of the drawbacks of traveling with me. And we change seats every day by design moving two seats forward or backward in a counterclockwise position so each couple will have the opportunity to sit in front with the better view and to talk with Shankar.
And the fog is so thick right now (7 AM) you can’t see 10 feet.
Chick magnet
Yesterday at Fatehpur Sikri, Pat, the Vietnam vet was sitting on a stone structure in the center of the courtyard, when a group of Asian girls made a beeline for Pat with his large size and bald head, surrounding him and one approached him and asked if she could have her picture taken with him. All the others giggled excitedly and took pictures. Then others wanted the same until he was surrounded with pretty college age girls. Many, many pictures. He had a grin from ear to ear. Damn him! The only one who wanted to take a picture of me earlier was a young teenage boy.
Agra Fort
We left on the bus for Agra Fort (instead of the Taj Mahal) due to the fog. When we arrived, we could barely see the fort as we walked over the bridge above the moat. There are three gates, two in a straight line and the third to the left. The reason is that elephants were used to knock down the doors at the gates but they needed a long run to do that, and the position of the third wall prevented that. And if they got in that gate, there is a long ramp they would have to come up and the defenders would pour hot oil down the ramp. Akbar built much of the fort along with his son, Jahangir. Those portions of red sandstone were built by them, Jahangir had a harem of 600 women and accordingly, did not mind the business of running the territories he controlled. We saw where the harem lived around a courtyard that was guarded by eunuchs, i.e. hermaphrodites. According to Shankar, they castrated no one and they had a ready supply of hermaphrodites to serve as eunuchs. They would keep track of every person who entered and departed the harem area.
Shah Jehan then added wings with a lovely palace. He went to the Agra bazaar and fell in love with Arjumand Banu Begum (known as Mumtaz Mahal) and she became his third wife and inseparable companion for 19 years, giving him fourteen children in that time. She was dying in childbirth for the 14th child and she made Shah Jehan or Jahan promise her that he would build a symbol of their love for posterity. So he build the Taj Mahal, using 20,000 men and taking 22 years. It is famous for its inlaid precious and semiprecious stones, and its translucent marble. The workers (not slaves) were paid from a minimum of 4 rupees per month (when 1 rupee per month was enough to sustain a family) up to 800 rupees per month for the most skilled craftsman doing the inlay work. Shah Jahan was overthrown by his youngest son, who by various means had killed his three older brothers and imprisoned in the palace where he had lived with Mumtal Mahal which overlooked the Taj Mahal. It is a lovely area with a room with a sunken pool, lots of doors and then a beautiful porch, all constructed with the white Indian marble. There was a diamond in one of the rooms that reflected the view of Taj Mahal into the entire room. Before the diamond was taken, the sun never set on the British Empire. Once they took the diamond, they lost their empire. The Indians don’t want it back because it is bad luck. Shah Jahan spent the last eight years of his life in this palace, and upon his death in 1666 at the age of 72, he was buried in the Taj Mahal alongside Mumtaz Mahal. I asked Shankar why the son who deposed him did not imprison him elsewhere or in the dungeon at Agra Fort. He surmised that the bond between a father and a son is strong and that patricide would just be the last straw and would never get you to paradise so maybe he was starting to seek redemption.
Despite the fog, the fort looked indomitable sitting so high above the river on one side and with high walls and a moat on the other sides.
Inlaid marble
From there we visited a store where they showed us how they made the inlaid marble and then allowed us time to look around the store for 30 minutes of so. The marble comes in several colors and it can take months to make a piece of inlaid marble. The cost can be many thousands of dollars depending on the complexity of the design. Some tables there cost more than $7,000 but they were absolutely spectacular. He showed us the translucence of the marble by shutting out the lights and then shining a flashlight up from under the table and the light passed through the marble. This is the astonishing thing about Taj Mahal as it is built entirely with this marble.
Taj Mahal
After lunch, we traveled to Taj Mahal. The fog was still present but less so than in the morning. Shankar took us through the gates to the site and showed us good places to take pictures. Unfortunately it was not good weather to take pictures but as it approaced 4:15 or 4:30, it cleared more and the sun shown through the fog. When we entered to view the burial vaults, it was dark and we were told it would be very light in there without the fog. The detail on the walls is phenomenal, with the inlay of designs, Koranic printings, and carvings. Surely there is no finer example of craftsmanship in the world. Bay and I both loved it. Check it out on the Internet.
Best laid plans
Off to Kharajuho (sp?) tomorrow and our plans are up in the air due to the fog. Our wake-up call is at 5:45 and we’re supposed to board the bus at &:30 to go to the train station for departure at 8:30. Lately due to the fog, that train has been delayed for up to 6 hours. Then the train ride is 2 1/2 hours in good weather, followed by a 6 hour bus ride from Jhonsi. Or it can be a 14 hour bus ride from here. So equanimity will be the word tomorrow.
So we go from the City of Love to the City of Lust. See you there.
Love, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB et al.
Miscellany
Birds - we have seen light green birds, both at Amber Fort and yesterday. They look like parrots but we don’t know the name of them. So we call them “green Indian birds.” And outside now, there are many, many birds adding to the cacophony, and at times drowning out the distant early-morning honking. P. S. Shankar says they’re parakeets, and parrots are much bigger, holding his hands about 2 1/2 feet apart!
Taj Mahal is an experience, according to Shankar. Yes, it is beautiful when you look at a picture or a postcard, but you only feel the presence of this great love when you are there. He has been there many times and it is always a new experience to him.
Meals - Bay has two bananas, while I have scrambled, watery eggs and a croissant or two with jam, and watermelon and pineapple squares; Bay and I usually have a power bar for lunch with water; and for dinner, Bay has had margherita pizza twice, and I have the buffet consisting mostly of rice and some chicken if I can find it, and last night also had a margherita pizza, of course with a couple of beers (thereby violating one of the Five Prohibitions diminishing my chances of attaining nibbana). Last night, for two pizzas and three beers, the cost was 1167 rupees or about $25 and the tip was 200 rupees, or $4.50 which is a little high (10% is recommended). The dinner at the restaurant with the dancing girls flame-eating boy, etc. was 550 rupees or $12 without drinks. So it is more expensive in the hotels.
A surprise at the palaces and forts is that a guard will ask if you want to take a picture of him beside the cannon or marble elephant and you do because he is all dressed up in a fancy military uniform. So you take the picture and then he immediately comes up to you with his hand out and asks for a “teep.” Can you imagine the soldiers at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, or those at Buckingham Palace asking for a tip after you take their picture? I was shocked the first time it happened. I gave him about 10 or 20 rupees, and they look disappointed. Even on the elephant ride, I gave the driver 100 rupees when we were advised to give no more than 50 rupees, and he looked very disappointed and said, “No, 200 rupees.” No matter what you pay them, looking disappointed at what they are given is part of the dance. A boy came up to the bus yesterday and pleaded with Bay through the closed window for a pen by miming writing on his hand. When she had dug one out of her backpack, he was gone to another group 40 or 50 feet away. When the bus started moving, he looked over and she threw the pen at him. He picked it up, looking disappointed of course, and then asked for money.
The power here has been going off every ten minutes or so for the past 40 minutes, but it has been coming right back on. It is a little disconcerting - like now it just went off again. What’s THAT all about? And now it’s back on. Better go shave.
Our bus is comfortable and the seats are almost separated enough for me to sit with my knees straight forward, but not quite so I have to encroach onto part of Bay’s space, one of the drawbacks of traveling with me. And we change seats every day by design moving two seats forward or backward in a counterclockwise position so each couple will have the opportunity to sit in front with the better view and to talk with Shankar.
And the fog is so thick right now (7 AM) you can’t see 10 feet.
Chick magnet
Yesterday at Fatehpur Sikri, Pat, the Vietnam vet was sitting on a stone structure in the center of the courtyard, when a group of Asian girls made a beeline for Pat with his large size and bald head, surrounding him and one approached him and asked if she could have her picture taken with him. All the others giggled excitedly and took pictures. Then others wanted the same until he was surrounded with pretty college age girls. Many, many pictures. He had a grin from ear to ear. Damn him! The only one who wanted to take a picture of me earlier was a young teenage boy.
Agra Fort
We left on the bus for Agra Fort (instead of the Taj Mahal) due to the fog. When we arrived, we could barely see the fort as we walked over the bridge above the moat. There are three gates, two in a straight line and the third to the left. The reason is that elephants were used to knock down the doors at the gates but they needed a long run to do that, and the position of the third wall prevented that. And if they got in that gate, there is a long ramp they would have to come up and the defenders would pour hot oil down the ramp. Akbar built much of the fort along with his son, Jahangir. Those portions of red sandstone were built by them, Jahangir had a harem of 600 women and accordingly, did not mind the business of running the territories he controlled. We saw where the harem lived around a courtyard that was guarded by eunuchs, i.e. hermaphrodites. According to Shankar, they castrated no one and they had a ready supply of hermaphrodites to serve as eunuchs. They would keep track of every person who entered and departed the harem area.
Shah Jehan then added wings with a lovely palace. He went to the Agra bazaar and fell in love with Arjumand Banu Begum (known as Mumtaz Mahal) and she became his third wife and inseparable companion for 19 years, giving him fourteen children in that time. She was dying in childbirth for the 14th child and she made Shah Jehan or Jahan promise her that he would build a symbol of their love for posterity. So he build the Taj Mahal, using 20,000 men and taking 22 years. It is famous for its inlaid precious and semiprecious stones, and its translucent marble. The workers (not slaves) were paid from a minimum of 4 rupees per month (when 1 rupee per month was enough to sustain a family) up to 800 rupees per month for the most skilled craftsman doing the inlay work. Shah Jahan was overthrown by his youngest son, who by various means had killed his three older brothers and imprisoned in the palace where he had lived with Mumtal Mahal which overlooked the Taj Mahal. It is a lovely area with a room with a sunken pool, lots of doors and then a beautiful porch, all constructed with the white Indian marble. There was a diamond in one of the rooms that reflected the view of Taj Mahal into the entire room. Before the diamond was taken, the sun never set on the British Empire. Once they took the diamond, they lost their empire. The Indians don’t want it back because it is bad luck. Shah Jahan spent the last eight years of his life in this palace, and upon his death in 1666 at the age of 72, he was buried in the Taj Mahal alongside Mumtaz Mahal. I asked Shankar why the son who deposed him did not imprison him elsewhere or in the dungeon at Agra Fort. He surmised that the bond between a father and a son is strong and that patricide would just be the last straw and would never get you to paradise so maybe he was starting to seek redemption.
Despite the fog, the fort looked indomitable sitting so high above the river on one side and with high walls and a moat on the other sides.
Inlaid marble
From there we visited a store where they showed us how they made the inlaid marble and then allowed us time to look around the store for 30 minutes of so. The marble comes in several colors and it can take months to make a piece of inlaid marble. The cost can be many thousands of dollars depending on the complexity of the design. Some tables there cost more than $7,000 but they were absolutely spectacular. He showed us the translucence of the marble by shutting out the lights and then shining a flashlight up from under the table and the light passed through the marble. This is the astonishing thing about Taj Mahal as it is built entirely with this marble.
Taj Mahal
After lunch, we traveled to Taj Mahal. The fog was still present but less so than in the morning. Shankar took us through the gates to the site and showed us good places to take pictures. Unfortunately it was not good weather to take pictures but as it approaced 4:15 or 4:30, it cleared more and the sun shown through the fog. When we entered to view the burial vaults, it was dark and we were told it would be very light in there without the fog. The detail on the walls is phenomenal, with the inlay of designs, Koranic printings, and carvings. Surely there is no finer example of craftsmanship in the world. Bay and I both loved it. Check it out on the Internet.
Best laid plans
Off to Kharajuho (sp?) tomorrow and our plans are up in the air due to the fog. Our wake-up call is at 5:45 and we’re supposed to board the bus at &:30 to go to the train station for departure at 8:30. Lately due to the fog, that train has been delayed for up to 6 hours. Then the train ride is 2 1/2 hours in good weather, followed by a 6 hour bus ride from Jhonsi. Or it can be a 14 hour bus ride from here. So equanimity will be the word tomorrow.
So we go from the City of Love to the City of Lust. See you there.
Love, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB et al.
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