Gunther wrote a bit about this already, but I wanted to add a bit here and there...
Oct 5 - Arrival in Leh, Ladakh (Jammu & Kashmir) - North India
An early, early morning flight from the Delhi airport. We decided to arrive by train from Haridwar, stay up all night in the Delhi airport and grab our flight from there. I definitely felt like a vagabond, crashing on top of my backpack in the airport.
Some chai and the flight into Leh.
I had some anxiety about acute mountain sickness (AMS). An Aussie told me that he had the sensation that he couldn’t get enough air, that he got a claustrophobic sense. I had a boyfriend in college who had asthma and I took him to the emergency room several times in the middle of the night because of an attack. Very scary stuff. So yep, I was a little nervous.
I stepped off the plane into the cold, cold air and I was happy to realize that I could actually breathe! However, as I began to walk and talk, things got a little funky. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. Simply standing actually caused me to be winded. The walk to the taxi and the walk up the stairs to the hotel room turned into a serious workout. By the time I hit the top of the stairs and opened the door to the room, I was ready to curl up on the floor and sleep and sleep and sleep. Fortunately, there was a bed within falling distance. Wiped out.
Oct 6 – Leh
Today, we walked through the town to check things out. Leh is so different than the rest of India. It truly feels like a different country.
The Himalayas are absolutely amazing. They shoot into the sky – straight up – high and jagged and covered in powdery snow. Majestic. Gunther’s pics do pretty good justice to how incredible they are.
The streets and the air are clean and the people are friendly. There is a smell to the Himalayas – an open, high, clear smell. People are mostly Tibetan and Buddhist, so the personality of everything is different – much more peaceful, much less aggressive. The buildings, houses, artwork, way of dress… everything is different. And ahhhhh! A break from the heat! We dropped from about 90 degrees plus the humidity in Haridwar to about 54 on average in Leh. As they say, you could have your feet in the shade and your head in the sun and you could get both a sunburn and frostbite simultaneously.
I had nothing but some thin pants and a fleece sweatshirt packed, so we found a place, on our tour of the village, that sold used trekking gear and dropped $6 each for some down jackets and ski pants to stay warm. Man, was I winded. Walking was like running, but it was so beautiful, I wasn’t in any hurry.
We made our way across the village to the other side of town in order to start our climb to the Shanti stupa, located just outsideLeh and ... up.
The climb, while really not a big deal, was a hilarious challenge. Walk 15 steps, stop and rest. Walk another 15 steps, stop and rest. All the way up those 574 steps to the top, and it only took an hour. Pant, huff, pant, huff…
The climb was well worth it. At the top was a monastery as well as the beautiful stupa that you can see in Gunther’s pictures. Sitting on the steep hillside, peering out over Leh and the surrounding areas, set against the clear blue sky, was this beautiful pearl decorated in sacred art. Religious art and religious structures are meant to inspire worshippers to worship, and this was accomplishing that aim. The shape and form, the colors and absence of colors, the placement and backdrop, all working in harmony to inspire and awe. A large golden Buddha sat at the high, center seat at the front of the stupa, glowing in the high mountain light, his face radiating peace. Magnificent.
After a good, long sit at this peak, we descended and slowly made our way back to the village to rest out the remainder of the day.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Delhi, Haridwar, Rishikesh
Oct 2 – Delhi to Haridwar
We arrived in Haridwar and it’s not like I pictured it. I’d heard and read of its spiritual core, but it seemed like a big, loud, dirty city, which, in essence, was confirmed by a resident of the city. “Haridwar is trying to be like a big city, loud, lots of shops, traffic, and Rishikesh is more like a town, peaceful…” Sadly, this helpful piece of information wasn’t passed along to me until I actually visited Rishikesh two days later.
Haridwar is kind of the Disneyland of Hinduism, I think. There are two main temples, very famous and very colorful, and a series of well developed and maintained ghats (definition: stairway/s leading down to a landing on the water) that line the Ganges (aka the Ganga), the most holy of rivers in India.
An important aside worth stating. The Ganga is believed to purify anything that’s put into it. A beautiful sentiment, to be sure, and a testament to the powers of the Ganga. Though Gunther and I did question that belief a little bit as we watched sewage, dredges of everyone’s laundry washed in the Ganga, dead animals, and various other unsavory detritus make their way down the river. As a kicker, worshipers drink the water from the Ganga as part of their ritual. So my guess is that Hindus have some kind of secret gene that enables them to not get horribly sick by participating in Ganga-related rituals. ??
At sunset, we visited the Har-Ki-Pairi (The Footstep of God) ghat in order to see the much acclaimed ganga aarti (river worship ceremony) honoring Vishnu, who is said to have dropped some heavenly nectar and left a footprint behind. As we approached the site, more and more people gathered until the atmosphere was one of bustling excitement – like the county fair. Street hawkers all around, boys selling light toys, large pieces of plastic cut from rolls of package labeling (Tide, Bountysoft, Lux Soap, etc.) for people to sit on, pens, and other trinkets, shop owners shouting out their wares, and officials in blue uniforms. These officials are simply there to collect money and provide you with an official receipt that you did, indeed, give – give to what, I’m not entirely sure. The funny thing was, we did give and got our receipt, but were then approached by another official in a different color blue uniform. And when we showed him our receipt, he said something to the effect of, “No, that is for the other Vishnu temple. This time, you give to this other Vishnu temple,” in effect, trying to talk us into giving more than our initial generous contribution. Now, I have no real idea what these guys collect for, but they were everywhere, all asking for more donations, more donations, more donations. My guess is that these donations go to cover the upkeep of the ghats, but ???
Approaching the ghats, I felt this buzz… honestly, like when you enter the gates of the county fair. You know something is going to happen, but you’re not quite sure what. Maybe you’ll get a hot dog? Maybe some cotton candy? Maybe you’ll go on a ride? Maybe you’ll throw up? Maybe you’ll meet someone special who could change your life forever?
People were lined up ten deep along the ghats, all vying for a good spot to witness and participate in the ceremony. Soon, out of the loudspeakers came a recorded mantra in Sanskrit. I was uncertain of its meaning, but when it started, people hushed to make space for spirit. The mantra continued, with the crowd (maybe a thousand people strong) beginning to join in the chant. After some time, the main part of the ceremony began. Three ceremony leaders, perched at the base of the Har-Ki-Pairi ghat and right at the water’s edge, took large torches, lit them, and began to wave them circularly in front of them – a kind of dance to the mantra. This chanting and fire offering went on for perhaps 15 minutes, and as things began to build in energy, the ceremony leaders then made their fire offerings, sending out lit baskets filled with small bits of rice, flowers, nuts, and so on onto the swiftly moving Ganga. As this was completed, everyone else in the crowd who had purchased large baskets of offerings from the many vendors, lit their baskets and sent them down the Ganga, as well. A kind of reverent, buzzing, hushed energy seemed all round. The burning offerings carried puja (prayers) so that Vishnu would fulfill hopes and grant blessings. To see all these little boats on fire drifting down the river was beautiful – a kind of sweet, perfect light show. And quickly, it seemed, as soon as the ceremony started, it ended with the crowd dispersing and the all the participants themselves drifting away from the Ganga.
We had a lovely conversation with an Indian man who tried to explain a little of what the ceremony was about, in his broken English. This ceremony and Haridwar attracts many pilgrims from all over India, and he and his family, I believe, had come from quite a ways away. His smile and kindness was a lovely end to the ceremony.
Oct 2 – Haridwar
Today included visits to the Mansa Devi and Chandi Devi Temples. Opening up this entry is a warning. My own state of mind was strong, spending much time in the past several days deeply challenged by my travels in India. This may color my description of these temples, but I’ll do my best to state my observations vs. proselytize in order to get you around to my own point of view on the state of religion today.
Mansa Devi and Chandi Devi Temples are the Disneyland of Hinduism. Now, I say that based on observations, not opinions. Here’s what I mean. First, we attempted to get a rickshaw ride to Mansa Devi. The rickshaw driver dropped us off at the base of a steep long hill, with no temple to be seen in the vicinity. OK, so we got a little jacked there. After a good tromp in the deep heat, we found the ticket office for the cable car that would take us up the hill to the temple. By cable car, I don’t mean the quaint, tourist toting cable cars of San Francisco fame, I mean one of those James-Bond-fights-Jaws-the-henchman-high-up-in-the-air-on-top-of-a-car-suspended-from-a-thick-metal-cable kind of cable car. This being a particular holy temple, the crowd was present, pushing and surging to get their tickets for their ride. After securing our tickets, we waited in a Disneyland ride-esque line that snaked side to side to side, back and forth and back and forth. All lined in vendors selling religious items of all kinds – prayer beads, offerings (prasad), pictures of the gods, and so forth. On the outskirts of the line were macaque monkeys, out to steal your prasad for a little lunch or snacky snack.
The cable car ride was actually quite lovely and quiet. The hill we climbed was landscaped and manicured, much like the grounds at Disneyland … seriously.
And then to Mansa Devi (Mansa Disneyland). Shoes off. Enter another line. Follow that line/crowd/herd through a series of very brightly colored, almost cartoon-like altars at which you leave your prasad and puja. At some altars, you could ring a large bell hanging overhead. At others, you got a mark on your forehead from the altar boy, then you bent down and got a hard, painful sounding slap on the back (I didn’t do the back slapping ritual myself). Herding onward and onward, through Mansa Devi and finally out the other side. It was quite a ride.
You get dumped out at the gift shop and café for some expensive snacks and a view of the hillside and valley below. Gunther spoke with a young woman who was there with her Mother. They came to the temple to fulfill their dead father’s/husband’s wish for them to make puja at Mansa Devi for him. Heavy duty.
Another line and another cable car ride took us to Chandi Devi. More of the same – crazy, brightly colored altars, back slapping, bell ringing, gift shopping, etc.
Again, I’ll hold off on too much personal commentary, but I can’t resist saying that the whole thing was like a kooky, slightly ominous cartoon laced with disquieting religious imagery that conjured up the stark contrariness of potent dogma. OK, that was as far as I’ll go with the personal commentary on this.
Oct 3 and 4 – Haridwar/Rishikesh
Day trips to Rishikesh, which is close by Haridwar. Word on the street in the U.S. was that Rishikesh was too touristy, being the place where the Beatles came to study with a guru who ended being a sham. Still, the Beatles were there, you know? And the plan was to stick to places that were a bit less touristy, hence, staying at Haridwar instead of Rishikesh. Oh damn. Rishikesh was absolutely lovely, especially after the previous many difficult and emotional days I had been experiencing. Rishikesh is known as the yoga capital of the world and as such, is home to masses of ashrams where you can study meditation, yoga, sitar playing, bodywork, and many other spiritually-based arts. The town has two main areas (Swarg Ashram and Lakshman Jhula), each of which revolves around a suspended footbridge that traverses the Ganga. The town itself is built into a steep hillside and rubs up against and crosses the great river. I spent today and the following day in Rishikesh, and the whole experience soothed my hurt and bedraggled soul.
Lakshman Jhula holds several strangely beautiful temples. I call them strange because they actually look like really tall, multi layered wedding cakes. Swarg Niwas and Shri Tayanbakshwar were built in 1929 and are each 13 stories, each story containing a multitude of small room altars that contain within them images of the gods and goddesses to which you can offer Prasad. For a pic, see http://www.traveljournals.net/pictures/86864.html. Quite a site.
The suspended footbridges were wonderful vantage points to the far side of the town, but also a bit scary. Narrow, very long, and situated high above the Ganga, the bridges vibrated and slightly undulated with the cow, monkey, human, and scooter traffic making their trips across. Being just a wee bit scared of heights made the trips exciting and more than a bit unnerving. But I was soothed at the other side by the sounds of mantras coming from the CD vendor’s stalls, by the vegetarian restaurants serving ayurvedic teas, by the calm demander of the people. Shouts from hawkers were few and far between.
On October 4, we went back again and visited a few of the larger and more famous ashrams. These typically had well maintained center gardens containing benches that let you look out at the myriad of statuary portraying the gods playing out different myths and stories. Surrounding the gardens were the living quarters for those studying in the ashram. I experienced it much like a more active, lively, colorful public park-like monastery.
The day concluded at a café set in the hillside, sipping drinks and looking out over the beautiful river. Rishikesh is a place I’d like to come back to.
We arrived in Haridwar and it’s not like I pictured it. I’d heard and read of its spiritual core, but it seemed like a big, loud, dirty city, which, in essence, was confirmed by a resident of the city. “Haridwar is trying to be like a big city, loud, lots of shops, traffic, and Rishikesh is more like a town, peaceful…” Sadly, this helpful piece of information wasn’t passed along to me until I actually visited Rishikesh two days later.
Haridwar is kind of the Disneyland of Hinduism, I think. There are two main temples, very famous and very colorful, and a series of well developed and maintained ghats (definition: stairway/s leading down to a landing on the water) that line the Ganges (aka the Ganga), the most holy of rivers in India.
An important aside worth stating. The Ganga is believed to purify anything that’s put into it. A beautiful sentiment, to be sure, and a testament to the powers of the Ganga. Though Gunther and I did question that belief a little bit as we watched sewage, dredges of everyone’s laundry washed in the Ganga, dead animals, and various other unsavory detritus make their way down the river. As a kicker, worshipers drink the water from the Ganga as part of their ritual. So my guess is that Hindus have some kind of secret gene that enables them to not get horribly sick by participating in Ganga-related rituals. ??
At sunset, we visited the Har-Ki-Pairi (The Footstep of God) ghat in order to see the much acclaimed ganga aarti (river worship ceremony) honoring Vishnu, who is said to have dropped some heavenly nectar and left a footprint behind. As we approached the site, more and more people gathered until the atmosphere was one of bustling excitement – like the county fair. Street hawkers all around, boys selling light toys, large pieces of plastic cut from rolls of package labeling (Tide, Bountysoft, Lux Soap, etc.) for people to sit on, pens, and other trinkets, shop owners shouting out their wares, and officials in blue uniforms. These officials are simply there to collect money and provide you with an official receipt that you did, indeed, give – give to what, I’m not entirely sure. The funny thing was, we did give and got our receipt, but were then approached by another official in a different color blue uniform. And when we showed him our receipt, he said something to the effect of, “No, that is for the other Vishnu temple. This time, you give to this other Vishnu temple,” in effect, trying to talk us into giving more than our initial generous contribution. Now, I have no real idea what these guys collect for, but they were everywhere, all asking for more donations, more donations, more donations. My guess is that these donations go to cover the upkeep of the ghats, but ???
Approaching the ghats, I felt this buzz… honestly, like when you enter the gates of the county fair. You know something is going to happen, but you’re not quite sure what. Maybe you’ll get a hot dog? Maybe some cotton candy? Maybe you’ll go on a ride? Maybe you’ll throw up? Maybe you’ll meet someone special who could change your life forever?
People were lined up ten deep along the ghats, all vying for a good spot to witness and participate in the ceremony. Soon, out of the loudspeakers came a recorded mantra in Sanskrit. I was uncertain of its meaning, but when it started, people hushed to make space for spirit. The mantra continued, with the crowd (maybe a thousand people strong) beginning to join in the chant. After some time, the main part of the ceremony began. Three ceremony leaders, perched at the base of the Har-Ki-Pairi ghat and right at the water’s edge, took large torches, lit them, and began to wave them circularly in front of them – a kind of dance to the mantra. This chanting and fire offering went on for perhaps 15 minutes, and as things began to build in energy, the ceremony leaders then made their fire offerings, sending out lit baskets filled with small bits of rice, flowers, nuts, and so on onto the swiftly moving Ganga. As this was completed, everyone else in the crowd who had purchased large baskets of offerings from the many vendors, lit their baskets and sent them down the Ganga, as well. A kind of reverent, buzzing, hushed energy seemed all round. The burning offerings carried puja (prayers) so that Vishnu would fulfill hopes and grant blessings. To see all these little boats on fire drifting down the river was beautiful – a kind of sweet, perfect light show. And quickly, it seemed, as soon as the ceremony started, it ended with the crowd dispersing and the all the participants themselves drifting away from the Ganga.
We had a lovely conversation with an Indian man who tried to explain a little of what the ceremony was about, in his broken English. This ceremony and Haridwar attracts many pilgrims from all over India, and he and his family, I believe, had come from quite a ways away. His smile and kindness was a lovely end to the ceremony.
Oct 2 – Haridwar
Today included visits to the Mansa Devi and Chandi Devi Temples. Opening up this entry is a warning. My own state of mind was strong, spending much time in the past several days deeply challenged by my travels in India. This may color my description of these temples, but I’ll do my best to state my observations vs. proselytize in order to get you around to my own point of view on the state of religion today.
Mansa Devi and Chandi Devi Temples are the Disneyland of Hinduism. Now, I say that based on observations, not opinions. Here’s what I mean. First, we attempted to get a rickshaw ride to Mansa Devi. The rickshaw driver dropped us off at the base of a steep long hill, with no temple to be seen in the vicinity. OK, so we got a little jacked there. After a good tromp in the deep heat, we found the ticket office for the cable car that would take us up the hill to the temple. By cable car, I don’t mean the quaint, tourist toting cable cars of San Francisco fame, I mean one of those James-Bond-fights-Jaws-the-henchman-high-up-in-the-air-on-top-of-a-car-suspended-from-a-thick-metal-cable kind of cable car. This being a particular holy temple, the crowd was present, pushing and surging to get their tickets for their ride. After securing our tickets, we waited in a Disneyland ride-esque line that snaked side to side to side, back and forth and back and forth. All lined in vendors selling religious items of all kinds – prayer beads, offerings (prasad), pictures of the gods, and so forth. On the outskirts of the line were macaque monkeys, out to steal your prasad for a little lunch or snacky snack.
The cable car ride was actually quite lovely and quiet. The hill we climbed was landscaped and manicured, much like the grounds at Disneyland … seriously.
And then to Mansa Devi (Mansa Disneyland). Shoes off. Enter another line. Follow that line/crowd/herd through a series of very brightly colored, almost cartoon-like altars at which you leave your prasad and puja. At some altars, you could ring a large bell hanging overhead. At others, you got a mark on your forehead from the altar boy, then you bent down and got a hard, painful sounding slap on the back (I didn’t do the back slapping ritual myself). Herding onward and onward, through Mansa Devi and finally out the other side. It was quite a ride.
You get dumped out at the gift shop and café for some expensive snacks and a view of the hillside and valley below. Gunther spoke with a young woman who was there with her Mother. They came to the temple to fulfill their dead father’s/husband’s wish for them to make puja at Mansa Devi for him. Heavy duty.
Another line and another cable car ride took us to Chandi Devi. More of the same – crazy, brightly colored altars, back slapping, bell ringing, gift shopping, etc.
Again, I’ll hold off on too much personal commentary, but I can’t resist saying that the whole thing was like a kooky, slightly ominous cartoon laced with disquieting religious imagery that conjured up the stark contrariness of potent dogma. OK, that was as far as I’ll go with the personal commentary on this.
Oct 3 and 4 – Haridwar/Rishikesh
Day trips to Rishikesh, which is close by Haridwar. Word on the street in the U.S. was that Rishikesh was too touristy, being the place where the Beatles came to study with a guru who ended being a sham. Still, the Beatles were there, you know? And the plan was to stick to places that were a bit less touristy, hence, staying at Haridwar instead of Rishikesh. Oh damn. Rishikesh was absolutely lovely, especially after the previous many difficult and emotional days I had been experiencing. Rishikesh is known as the yoga capital of the world and as such, is home to masses of ashrams where you can study meditation, yoga, sitar playing, bodywork, and many other spiritually-based arts. The town has two main areas (Swarg Ashram and Lakshman Jhula), each of which revolves around a suspended footbridge that traverses the Ganga. The town itself is built into a steep hillside and rubs up against and crosses the great river. I spent today and the following day in Rishikesh, and the whole experience soothed my hurt and bedraggled soul.
Lakshman Jhula holds several strangely beautiful temples. I call them strange because they actually look like really tall, multi layered wedding cakes. Swarg Niwas and Shri Tayanbakshwar were built in 1929 and are each 13 stories, each story containing a multitude of small room altars that contain within them images of the gods and goddesses to which you can offer Prasad. For a pic, see http://www.traveljournals.net/pictures/86864.html. Quite a site.
The suspended footbridges were wonderful vantage points to the far side of the town, but also a bit scary. Narrow, very long, and situated high above the Ganga, the bridges vibrated and slightly undulated with the cow, monkey, human, and scooter traffic making their trips across. Being just a wee bit scared of heights made the trips exciting and more than a bit unnerving. But I was soothed at the other side by the sounds of mantras coming from the CD vendor’s stalls, by the vegetarian restaurants serving ayurvedic teas, by the calm demander of the people. Shouts from hawkers were few and far between.
On October 4, we went back again and visited a few of the larger and more famous ashrams. These typically had well maintained center gardens containing benches that let you look out at the myriad of statuary portraying the gods playing out different myths and stories. Surrounding the gardens were the living quarters for those studying in the ashram. I experienced it much like a more active, lively, colorful public park-like monastery.
The day concluded at a café set in the hillside, sipping drinks and looking out over the beautiful river. Rishikesh is a place I’d like to come back to.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Pushkar-Part 2, Agra, and Delhi
Gun posted some good stuff about Leh, but I wanted to do a little filling in so you could see what we've been up to...
Sept 27 – Pushkar
What a hike! Up to Pap Mochani Temple in the mid-day heat of desert India. While the temple itself was nothing more than a hollowed out shell, the view of Pushkar, Pushkar lake, and the surrounding desert and hills was fantastic. At the top was a young woman dressed in rural desert country garb. She was looking out at the horizon, and there was a certain beauty in the whole scene. The colors she was wearing, how she was perched on the hillside, how she was surveying at it all and seemed to take it all in. Then, she simply scurried down the mountain, not using the steep path that was created to ascend and descend, but simply on the slippy rock and dirt and brush of the very steep and very big hill. It was like she was part desert mountain goat-ess! I would've broken my neck, but she gracefully and lightly descended.
We leave Pushkar tonight on the sleeper train for Agra and the Taj Mahal.
Sept 28 – Agra
We slept in the uppermost bunks of the three-tiered bunk sleeper train. Everyone was stacked up like rungs on a ladder and the top bunk left me pretty much crushed up against the roof of the train. I'm short and all, but even I couldn't come close to sitting up straight. And of course, I slept with my pack in the bunk, which left me about 3 3/4 ft. lengthwise to “stretch out” on. It was one of those slightly slept nights, but still definitely much better than that crazy 16 hour bus trip!
We checked into the Shanti Guest House, a complete dive of a hotel, and had breakfast on the rooftop restaurant. The saving grace of Shanti Guest House is that the rooftop restaurant has the most amazing view of the Taj Mahal. And we sat gazing at it in the morning light. It was spectacular and we simply stared at it all through our eggs, toast, and chai.
After breakfast, we promptly checked out of the Shanti Guest House – total visit time: about one hour. When we saw that the toilet was leaking into the room upon flushing, that pretty much got us out of there, and fast. We had to draw the line at our hotel room being covered in raw sewage and smelling rank. I know, we're wimps.
Since The Taj (as it's commonly referred to) was closed on Fridays in order for Muslim worship, we visited the Agra Fort, the Itimad-Ud-Daulah (aka The Baby Taj), and Mehtab Barg where we could see the Taj by sunset.
Agra Fort was amazing. Red sandstone, white marble, a palace, a fort, a prison, a city within a city. Quoting wikipedia, "It is the most important fort in India. The great Mughals Babur, Humayun, Akbar, Jehangir, Shah Jahan and Aurangzeb lived here, and the country was governed from here. It contained the largest state treasury and mint. It was visited by foreign ambassadors, travelers, and the highest dignitaries who participated in the making of history in India." For more information on this beautiful structure along the river, visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agra_Fort.
Next was Itimad-Ud-Daulah. This beautiful tomb is considered the precursor to the Taj Mahal. The tomb, built for the Persian nobleman and wazir, Mizra Ghilyas Beg, this structure was the first Mugha structure totally built from marble and the first to make extensive use of the pietra dura, or small, exquisitely cut and fitted, highly-polished colored stones that create what amounts to a painting in stone.
The layout is such that, no matter the entrance at which you stand, the structure looks identical. I found the intricate inlay to be hypnotizing – repeating patterns of swirls, crisscrosses, diamonds... All meticulously and perfectly executed so that one is left with a sense of quiet awe and appreciation. I sat and just gazed at the structure as the late afternoon sun bathed the white marble and beautiful inlay with a soft gold and silver light. It was one of those moments – timeless, perfect, magic.
Mehtab Barg was next so that we could gaze at the Taj Mahal by sunset from the quiet of the public gardens. Metab Barg is an attempt to recreate a Mughal-style garden. The garden is laid out not so much like a garden as we know it, but instead like an orchard with the trees and the flower bushes meticulously lined up in patches. A fountain grounded the center of the orchard-garden. At the point where the garden meets the edge of the river is a space where it looks like someone started to build something, then gave up. There is some scuttlebutt that this space was the beginning of a Black Taj in echo of the White Taj across the river. This scuttlebutt, however, has yet to be substantiated. Perhaps it’s a lovely myth passed down to tourists to enhance the already great mystery of the Taj Mahal?
Like Itimad-Ud-Daulah, The Taj is perfectly replicated on every side so that no matter which side you see it from, you’re seeing the same thing. Now, if you’ve ever been in Las Vegas (I know it’s a sacrilege to mention The Taj and Vegas in the same sentence), you know that the scale of everything can get a little wonky. Buildings that you think are just “right over there” are really a 45 minute walk. The scale is so outrageous, all the hotels and casinos simply flatten out and seem to make up a picture that you can hang on your wall (OK, so I don’t want to hang a picture of The Strip on my wall, but you get my meaning). Well, that’s the The Taj. The structure is so spectacular that your mind begins to simply flatten it out in order to make sense of it. The whole scene of the The Taj, the sunset, the river, the clouds and sky, the birds circling the topmost dome – they all begin to simply look like the most gorgeous, spectacular postcard you’ve ever seen. It’s a strange sensation, but somehow doesn’t detract in any way from the experience. In fact, as soon as that illusion began to happen for me, the whole thing became even more amazing because I knew just what kind of scale we were talking about here… something so big and so incredible that my little mind simply couldn’t take in all of its wholeness.
Gunther and I talked with Captain Vijay (as he called himself), a retired military man who happened to be looking at The Taj and the sunset, like us. Capt. Vijay was a cheerful, friendly man who simply smiled, laughed, and tried to speak some English with us. One of the few times in India when a stranger wanted to talk with us without asking for something in return. I was grateful for his kindness in such a reverent place. Another magic moment provided by India.
Sept 29 – Agra
Early risers. Have to get to The Taj early, early to see the sunrise there. Little did I know that everyone else from out of town had the same exact idea. We arrived at the ticketing area and were greeted by throngs of people – Indian and European tour groups, street vendors of all kinds, money changers, etc. Hundreds of people wanting to get into The Taj at opening time. I’ve mentioned before, I think, the incredible lack of infrastructure in India. This includes everything from 24/7 power to trash collection to lines/queue-ing. The “line” for gaining an entry ticket for The Taj was complete chaos – not a line so much as a big, huge bunch. The standard Indian method of simply pushing and elbowing your way to the front of the line was in full effect. People shoving, jabbing, and even a brief fist fight breaking out.
Upon reaching the front of the line after about an hour of waiting, we saw that there were only two ticket counters. Two?? I mean, hey kids, this is the TAJ MAHAL, here. Perhaps creating several more ticket windows would behoove you? (end rant… ok, I’m lying, more ranting is ahead, I’m afraid.) Next were the security lines. Yes, absolutely, security needs to be really excellent for the Taj Mahal. We don’t want any wackos blowing up the primary, existing wonder of the world – most definitely not. However, the line to get scanned and searched was an even bigger disaster than the ticket line. For ALL those people, there were again only two lines for the security check. Now let’s just get it out of the way here and now – our sun has completely risen and any wishes for a magical sunrise at The Taj are now only faint dreams fading into lost memory and harsh reality.
I really don’t have any hard feelings about this, despite my scathing description of the experience, so far. I suppose I’m just pointing out some real culture that happened during this whole experience. India is not a country of super efficiency, as is evidenced by this most famous landmark. In so many ways – more ways than I can describe – India is a foreign land and probably, for my money, one of the most odd and bizarre cultures ever (at least in my travel log).
At any rate, after the security official confiscated the package of cookies from my purse (were they exploding cookies? Perhaps! One can never be too careful about shortbread biscuits) I was finally granted access to this miracle of architecture and spirituality.
The place was p-a-c-k-e-d. I mean, wall to wall people. And that’s saying something considering how big this place was. Packed, and rightly so because it was beautiful. The fog had started to roll in, throwing a misty, dreamy effect on The Taj, the surrounding mosques, and the meticulously groomed grounds. As you can probably imagine, I have about 50+ pictures taken from every single angle I could find. The monument is absolutely incredible. How they built this with the tools and knowledge they had at the time astounds me.
I walked all around The Taj, seeing it from far away, with that tree in front, from this vantage point, up high, now down low, now from this mosque, and now from that one, now from the river, and so on and so on. Yet, I hesitated to enter into The Taj itself. Masses of people had begun to line up at the one small entrance. More pushing, more shoving, more yelling, sweating, farting, grunting. A wall of humans surging. After an elderly woman in a worn sari pushed her sharp little elbow into my ribs with some satisfaction, I finally entered the mausoleum. No light but the light filtering in from outside. The two graves – one for the Shah Jahan and one for his second wife, for whom he built the structure. Small graves, almost insignificant. Still the mass of people, pushing, shoving, scrambling on each other to see. Another fight, shouting, hitting… because an Indian man bent the rules by taking flash photos over, and over, and over again after being warned not to many times.
I have to say that my experience of The Taj was mixed. It’s hard to feel reverence, awe, and wonder when people are fighting, elbowing, surging, crowding. Maybe I need to broaden my view of what a spiritual experience is? A koan, if I’ve ever heard one.
But as I moved away from the mass, I found a quiet spot a bit away from the monument. A perfect little spot at a bench with the trees making a perfect picture frame of The Taj. Gunther has included it in this blog – the one with the lovely, moody fog surrounding it? This was My Perfect Taj Moment.
Then, having our fill of both the beauty and the unsightliness – we left the site.
However, you’d find us again that same day, back at theMehtab Barg (gardens), worshipping The Taj as the sun set in Agra. All was healed.
Sept 30 – Travel from Agra to Delhi
Not much to say about this day. We had a quick trip via train to Delhi and settled into our hotel in the neighborhood that I now lovingly refer to as “The Tenderloin” of Delhi (those in the Bay Area will know what I mean, and if you’re not from the Bay, try Googling “The Tenderloin San Francisco” and you’ll get the gist). We tripped around Delhi a bit, checking out The Tenderloin’s (aka Paharganj) various bazaars, visiting some public gardens in another part of town, and concluding the day with a lovely dance performance. Tomorrow, another travel day.
Sept 27 – Pushkar
What a hike! Up to Pap Mochani Temple in the mid-day heat of desert India. While the temple itself was nothing more than a hollowed out shell, the view of Pushkar, Pushkar lake, and the surrounding desert and hills was fantastic. At the top was a young woman dressed in rural desert country garb. She was looking out at the horizon, and there was a certain beauty in the whole scene. The colors she was wearing, how she was perched on the hillside, how she was surveying at it all and seemed to take it all in. Then, she simply scurried down the mountain, not using the steep path that was created to ascend and descend, but simply on the slippy rock and dirt and brush of the very steep and very big hill. It was like she was part desert mountain goat-ess! I would've broken my neck, but she gracefully and lightly descended.
We leave Pushkar tonight on the sleeper train for Agra and the Taj Mahal.
Sept 28 – Agra
We slept in the uppermost bunks of the three-tiered bunk sleeper train. Everyone was stacked up like rungs on a ladder and the top bunk left me pretty much crushed up against the roof of the train. I'm short and all, but even I couldn't come close to sitting up straight. And of course, I slept with my pack in the bunk, which left me about 3 3/4 ft. lengthwise to “stretch out” on. It was one of those slightly slept nights, but still definitely much better than that crazy 16 hour bus trip!
We checked into the Shanti Guest House, a complete dive of a hotel, and had breakfast on the rooftop restaurant. The saving grace of Shanti Guest House is that the rooftop restaurant has the most amazing view of the Taj Mahal. And we sat gazing at it in the morning light. It was spectacular and we simply stared at it all through our eggs, toast, and chai.
After breakfast, we promptly checked out of the Shanti Guest House – total visit time: about one hour. When we saw that the toilet was leaking into the room upon flushing, that pretty much got us out of there, and fast. We had to draw the line at our hotel room being covered in raw sewage and smelling rank. I know, we're wimps.
Since The Taj (as it's commonly referred to) was closed on Fridays in order for Muslim worship, we visited the Agra Fort, the Itimad-Ud-Daulah (aka The Baby Taj), and Mehtab Barg where we could see the Taj by sunset.
Agra Fort was amazing. Red sandstone, white marble, a palace, a fort, a prison, a city within a city. Quoting wikipedia, "It is the most important fort in India. The great Mughals Babur, Humayun, Akbar, Jehangir, Shah Jahan and Aurangzeb lived here, and the country was governed from here. It contained the largest state treasury and mint. It was visited by foreign ambassadors, travelers, and the highest dignitaries who participated in the making of history in India." For more information on this beautiful structure along the river, visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agra_Fort.
Next was Itimad-Ud-Daulah. This beautiful tomb is considered the precursor to the Taj Mahal. The tomb, built for the Persian nobleman and wazir, Mizra Ghilyas Beg, this structure was the first Mugha structure totally built from marble and the first to make extensive use of the pietra dura, or small, exquisitely cut and fitted, highly-polished colored stones that create what amounts to a painting in stone.
The layout is such that, no matter the entrance at which you stand, the structure looks identical. I found the intricate inlay to be hypnotizing – repeating patterns of swirls, crisscrosses, diamonds... All meticulously and perfectly executed so that one is left with a sense of quiet awe and appreciation. I sat and just gazed at the structure as the late afternoon sun bathed the white marble and beautiful inlay with a soft gold and silver light. It was one of those moments – timeless, perfect, magic.
Mehtab Barg was next so that we could gaze at the Taj Mahal by sunset from the quiet of the public gardens. Metab Barg is an attempt to recreate a Mughal-style garden. The garden is laid out not so much like a garden as we know it, but instead like an orchard with the trees and the flower bushes meticulously lined up in patches. A fountain grounded the center of the orchard-garden. At the point where the garden meets the edge of the river is a space where it looks like someone started to build something, then gave up. There is some scuttlebutt that this space was the beginning of a Black Taj in echo of the White Taj across the river. This scuttlebutt, however, has yet to be substantiated. Perhaps it’s a lovely myth passed down to tourists to enhance the already great mystery of the Taj Mahal?
Like Itimad-Ud-Daulah, The Taj is perfectly replicated on every side so that no matter which side you see it from, you’re seeing the same thing. Now, if you’ve ever been in Las Vegas (I know it’s a sacrilege to mention The Taj and Vegas in the same sentence), you know that the scale of everything can get a little wonky. Buildings that you think are just “right over there” are really a 45 minute walk. The scale is so outrageous, all the hotels and casinos simply flatten out and seem to make up a picture that you can hang on your wall (OK, so I don’t want to hang a picture of The Strip on my wall, but you get my meaning). Well, that’s the The Taj. The structure is so spectacular that your mind begins to simply flatten it out in order to make sense of it. The whole scene of the The Taj, the sunset, the river, the clouds and sky, the birds circling the topmost dome – they all begin to simply look like the most gorgeous, spectacular postcard you’ve ever seen. It’s a strange sensation, but somehow doesn’t detract in any way from the experience. In fact, as soon as that illusion began to happen for me, the whole thing became even more amazing because I knew just what kind of scale we were talking about here… something so big and so incredible that my little mind simply couldn’t take in all of its wholeness.
Gunther and I talked with Captain Vijay (as he called himself), a retired military man who happened to be looking at The Taj and the sunset, like us. Capt. Vijay was a cheerful, friendly man who simply smiled, laughed, and tried to speak some English with us. One of the few times in India when a stranger wanted to talk with us without asking for something in return. I was grateful for his kindness in such a reverent place. Another magic moment provided by India.
Sept 29 – Agra
Early risers. Have to get to The Taj early, early to see the sunrise there. Little did I know that everyone else from out of town had the same exact idea. We arrived at the ticketing area and were greeted by throngs of people – Indian and European tour groups, street vendors of all kinds, money changers, etc. Hundreds of people wanting to get into The Taj at opening time. I’ve mentioned before, I think, the incredible lack of infrastructure in India. This includes everything from 24/7 power to trash collection to lines/queue-ing. The “line” for gaining an entry ticket for The Taj was complete chaos – not a line so much as a big, huge bunch. The standard Indian method of simply pushing and elbowing your way to the front of the line was in full effect. People shoving, jabbing, and even a brief fist fight breaking out.
Upon reaching the front of the line after about an hour of waiting, we saw that there were only two ticket counters. Two?? I mean, hey kids, this is the TAJ MAHAL, here. Perhaps creating several more ticket windows would behoove you? (end rant… ok, I’m lying, more ranting is ahead, I’m afraid.) Next were the security lines. Yes, absolutely, security needs to be really excellent for the Taj Mahal. We don’t want any wackos blowing up the primary, existing wonder of the world – most definitely not. However, the line to get scanned and searched was an even bigger disaster than the ticket line. For ALL those people, there were again only two lines for the security check. Now let’s just get it out of the way here and now – our sun has completely risen and any wishes for a magical sunrise at The Taj are now only faint dreams fading into lost memory and harsh reality.
I really don’t have any hard feelings about this, despite my scathing description of the experience, so far. I suppose I’m just pointing out some real culture that happened during this whole experience. India is not a country of super efficiency, as is evidenced by this most famous landmark. In so many ways – more ways than I can describe – India is a foreign land and probably, for my money, one of the most odd and bizarre cultures ever (at least in my travel log).
At any rate, after the security official confiscated the package of cookies from my purse (were they exploding cookies? Perhaps! One can never be too careful about shortbread biscuits) I was finally granted access to this miracle of architecture and spirituality.
The place was p-a-c-k-e-d. I mean, wall to wall people. And that’s saying something considering how big this place was. Packed, and rightly so because it was beautiful. The fog had started to roll in, throwing a misty, dreamy effect on The Taj, the surrounding mosques, and the meticulously groomed grounds. As you can probably imagine, I have about 50+ pictures taken from every single angle I could find. The monument is absolutely incredible. How they built this with the tools and knowledge they had at the time astounds me.
I walked all around The Taj, seeing it from far away, with that tree in front, from this vantage point, up high, now down low, now from this mosque, and now from that one, now from the river, and so on and so on. Yet, I hesitated to enter into The Taj itself. Masses of people had begun to line up at the one small entrance. More pushing, more shoving, more yelling, sweating, farting, grunting. A wall of humans surging. After an elderly woman in a worn sari pushed her sharp little elbow into my ribs with some satisfaction, I finally entered the mausoleum. No light but the light filtering in from outside. The two graves – one for the Shah Jahan and one for his second wife, for whom he built the structure. Small graves, almost insignificant. Still the mass of people, pushing, shoving, scrambling on each other to see. Another fight, shouting, hitting… because an Indian man bent the rules by taking flash photos over, and over, and over again after being warned not to many times.
I have to say that my experience of The Taj was mixed. It’s hard to feel reverence, awe, and wonder when people are fighting, elbowing, surging, crowding. Maybe I need to broaden my view of what a spiritual experience is? A koan, if I’ve ever heard one.
But as I moved away from the mass, I found a quiet spot a bit away from the monument. A perfect little spot at a bench with the trees making a perfect picture frame of The Taj. Gunther has included it in this blog – the one with the lovely, moody fog surrounding it? This was My Perfect Taj Moment.
Then, having our fill of both the beauty and the unsightliness – we left the site.
However, you’d find us again that same day, back at theMehtab Barg (gardens), worshipping The Taj as the sun set in Agra. All was healed.
Sept 30 – Travel from Agra to Delhi
Not much to say about this day. We had a quick trip via train to Delhi and settled into our hotel in the neighborhood that I now lovingly refer to as “The Tenderloin” of Delhi (those in the Bay Area will know what I mean, and if you’re not from the Bay, try Googling “The Tenderloin San Francisco” and you’ll get the gist). We tripped around Delhi a bit, checking out The Tenderloin’s (aka Paharganj) various bazaars, visiting some public gardens in another part of town, and concluding the day with a lovely dance performance. Tomorrow, another travel day.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
The Himilayas
I got to have another longtime wish fulfilled and see the Himalayas. We traveled to Leh India on the 5th of October with a little trepidation about altitude sickness. Leh sits at an incredible altitude of 3650 meters (11,975 feet); while we flew up there from Delhi which is at something like 500 feet elevation. The flight both in and out was remarkable, the mountain range extends off into the horizon and way in the distance are mountains that stick up almost as high as the airplane. Getting off the airplane was quite an experience as well -- your body simply cannot get enough air, every step is laborious, and simple tasks make you feel like you have been smoking 3 packs a day since you were 9 years old. We basically just went to sleep in our room and watched grainy HBO the first day. The picture below doesn't do them justice.
The second day we went outside of town and climbed up to Shanti Stuppa. A nice looking stuppa about 800 feet above the main town. It took us 3 hours to do that -- climbing 12 steps, stopping, deep breathing, waiting for the heart to stop pounding, and then doing it again for all 500 or so steps. We were rewarded by a spectacular view and a beautiful stuppa and shrine.
Ladakh, (Leh is the capital) is called "little Tibet" and it is not like other parts of India, the culture and people are Tibetan. It was great to have a much more relaxed and friendlier experience than the rest of India.
On the third day we had a real treat and went to some monasteries. At the first one Hemis, we got there in time to witness a ceremony. It was full on -- an old hall covered with images and artwork, incense, chanting, drums, cymbals, horns, novices running about, the works. Tibetan Buddhism is very different from the Zen Buddhism I have experienced in the Bay area, you can see how the prior folk religious was incorporated into Buddhism through all the images and icons of demons, animals, and other supernatural beings.
At the other monasteries we got to see two huge indoor, two story tall coper and gold gilt Buddhas that were about 400 years old. Plus a room full of gigantic black painted sculptures of multi headed/handed demons, all covered in fabric, with a large phallus oddly poking out of one of the corners, that still had a wonderful spiritual feel about it.
After a day of rest we went on a very bumpy 10 hour 4wd ride to Pangong Lake. I'm not sure the ride was worth the cost in time, money, and having your body tossed around for that amount of time, but the lake was quite pretty and we did go over the worlds 3rd highest pass, Changla pass. The pass is sits at 5270 m./17,300 ft. for comparison Mt. Shasta is a measly 14,179-foot (4,322 m) "mountain". Just after I had started getting used to Leh's elevation, I was out staggering in the snow gasping for air. Wondering if I was going to simply pass out while still appreciating the view. Snow in India -- go figure.
You can also buy cheap used warm weather clothes because you certainly won't need them in the rest of India. The people are nice, and I can see why Hollywood has romanticized Tibetan Buddhism, it is very special, good thing there will be plenty more Dalhi Lahmas. If you visit India, be sure to include Leh on your itinerary.
The second day we went outside of town and climbed up to Shanti Stuppa. A nice looking stuppa about 800 feet above the main town. It took us 3 hours to do that -- climbing 12 steps, stopping, deep breathing, waiting for the heart to stop pounding, and then doing it again for all 500 or so steps. We were rewarded by a spectacular view and a beautiful stuppa and shrine.
Ladakh, (Leh is the capital) is called "little Tibet" and it is not like other parts of India, the culture and people are Tibetan. It was great to have a much more relaxed and friendlier experience than the rest of India.
On the third day we had a real treat and went to some monasteries. At the first one Hemis, we got there in time to witness a ceremony. It was full on -- an old hall covered with images and artwork, incense, chanting, drums, cymbals, horns, novices running about, the works. Tibetan Buddhism is very different from the Zen Buddhism I have experienced in the Bay area, you can see how the prior folk religious was incorporated into Buddhism through all the images and icons of demons, animals, and other supernatural beings.
At the other monasteries we got to see two huge indoor, two story tall coper and gold gilt Buddhas that were about 400 years old. Plus a room full of gigantic black painted sculptures of multi headed/handed demons, all covered in fabric, with a large phallus oddly poking out of one of the corners, that still had a wonderful spiritual feel about it.
After a day of rest we went on a very bumpy 10 hour 4wd ride to Pangong Lake. I'm not sure the ride was worth the cost in time, money, and having your body tossed around for that amount of time, but the lake was quite pretty and we did go over the worlds 3rd highest pass, Changla pass. The pass is sits at 5270 m./17,300 ft. for comparison Mt. Shasta is a measly 14,179-foot (4,322 m) "mountain". Just after I had started getting used to Leh's elevation, I was out staggering in the snow gasping for air. Wondering if I was going to simply pass out while still appreciating the view. Snow in India -- go figure.
You can also buy cheap used warm weather clothes because you certainly won't need them in the rest of India. The people are nice, and I can see why Hollywood has romanticized Tibetan Buddhism, it is very special, good thing there will be plenty more Dalhi Lahmas. If you visit India, be sure to include Leh on your itinerary.
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