Holi Rishikesh

You know it's not the best idea to self diagnose your illnesses. I do this from time to time and it often makes me feel worse than what I actually am. It usually gives me the sense of impending doom.  Right now I have a parasite swimming along inside my gut somewhere, happily eating whatever food I supply it. "Dinner time", I shout just to let him know his food is on the way down. How do I know this you ask? Well, I took it upon myself to look on line, Doctor Tom can diagnose any ailment at the touch of a button.
Unlike when we were in Mandrem and I was projectile vomiting, this time I had running water from my backside! I also kept doing these eggy flavoured burps. So I check online and what do you know, diarrhoea and sulphur burps = parasite. It couldn't be anything to do with the fact I hadn't eaten eggs for ages and demolished a couple of fried ones the day before, no that couldn't be it. It couldn't be just a mild bout of food poisoning that caused the water from the rear, or could it. Perhaps Doc Tom got his diagnosis wrong. Maybe I'll have to say goodbye to my little friend Pete the Parasite for now.  

The next morning the tap had stopped running. Allison had gone out leaving me to regather my strength. She walked into world war 3, Holi festival was in full swing with powdered paint being thrown from all angles. She came back looking like an artist had used her face as a canvas.

"You have to come out", she said, I realised that experiencing Holi festival is a once in a lifetime opportunity, "Ok, let me get ready" I responded. I had to man up and use ancient yogic energy techniques to help me through the celebrations. We left our hotel, Allison looking like she was already a part of the shenanigans, whereas I was as clean as a whistle. I approached some locals to ask if they could put some paint on me so I could fit in better. They smeared my face with paint powder and then proceeded to throw buckets of water over me. I was unaware of the water component to the celebration up to that point.
I was now looking more decorated and feeling more confidant to walk down into the fracas, but still had to catch up with the work of art that was Allison, which didn't take long at all. We couldn't get 10 metres without someone approaching us to smear our faces with paint. For some reason they like to get it right in your face, smear it in your ears, up your nose, even in your eyes as Allison will attest to.
The main square was now becoming deserted and all that was left was the aftermath of the war, people covered from head to toe in colour and water. Our walk continued with minor skirmishes breaking out every so often, paint in the face, water over my head, then more paint in our faces.

We made it to the Nirvana cafe alive and in one piece, but I was soaked through as I hadn't managed to dodge the buckets of water being thrown down from the rooftops. Perhaps Allison's police training enabled her to evade any incoming H2O because as far as I could see she was as dry as a bone.
We holed up for a while with some hot drinks and waited till 2:00 pm, apparently it all calms down by then, after a quick recce we decided it was safe to be back on the streets and went to get some food at our favourite lunch time haunt, Rawat. They serve cheap thalis there, both of us can fill up for 2 pound 50! And then they still ask if you want more dhal, rice or chapatti.  

Rawat reigned supreme for a fast, cheap and healthy meal.

A leopard can never change his spots, I'm not really sure about that but I'm guessing they can't. But I'll tell you something I do know, they eat cows! And I know this because I saw the carcass of one that a leopard had decided to tear off it's head. Sergio, a fellow traveller was in his room and heard crazy sounds coming from outside late at night. The next day the owner of his guest house took him to the spot where the leopard had dragged the dead cow. They both took me a long the next day, "keep an eye out, just in case its still about" the Indian man said. "Do they eat humans" I asked, "yes, lots" he replied. What the fuck am I still doing here I thought. There are a number of human deaths, and only the week before a girl was killed by a leopard not too far from where we were.

Poor Cow! Beheaded by a leopard.

Three day Pranayama course with Swami Sachinand we read on the flier. Our thought processes of should we or shouldn't we go were made all the more easier by the fact Lilli had done the same course the previous year and said that its not to be missed. 

Our first day started with some brilliant old school 80's aerobics combinations which had Allison beaming from ear to ear. I sware she thought she was back at the Brixton Recreation centre in an aerobics class, but this time it was a magnificently bearded swami instructing the class and not a lycra clad woman. After our warm up we went through some gentle yoga postures followed by some breathing exercises and confidence boosting games. Day two and day three all begun in the same fabulous manner as day one, however the Swami's kriya breathing techniques were added in to these two days. Being sworn to secrecy, all I can say is check out www.artdivine.org and globe trot if necessary to experience this amazing course.

Swami Sachinand & crew

Me and Allison hadn't attended an Ashtanga primary series class since being in Mysore, now with waining physical strength and losing muscle tone fast, we felt it necessary to try and jump back on the more physical style of yoga band wagon. Kamal Singh's name had been banded about Rishikesh as one of the only people to teach this style and he came highly recommended by a number of people. 

"Breathe, breathe, hissssing sound", he would state aloud in time with our movements. It reminded me of an MC at a rave getting people geared up to dance harder and faster. He had this aura of arrogance about him, like a Yogi rock star if there is such a thing, all dressed in white riding his motorbike wearing his ray bans.

Kamal, without sunglasses and riding a strange looking motorbike. 

Alcohol had not passed either of our lips for over five weeks, were we missing it? Yes and no. Yes because it's been a major part of both our lives for such a long time, and no, because it's illegal in Rishikesh and as such there are no adverts or shops or bars which sell alcohol so you haven't got constant reminders of what you are missing.
Goodbye India, hello Sri Lanka. We have now left India behind and are now in Sri Lanka with lots of things to see and do, but first up on our agenda, taking in some colonial beauty? Looking at the gorgeous wildlife? Nope, alcohol, how sad are we.

Beer & a Mojito please, and make it snappy!

Rishikesh

We were both tired and had to contemplate one more train journey for at least a little while on our Indian travels.
Train journey-
Agra Cantt to Haridwar, a ten hour daytime journey, leaving at 10:50, arriving at 20:55.

The train pulls in, we both see our sleeper class cabin is packed to the brim, so we accelerate down the platform to find that 3AC cabin we should have booked in the bloody first place. We're thinking that these two feeble westerners can't handle a packed 10 hours of sniffing piss again in such a short period of time.
There are 8 different classes of travel on the Indian railways network, so being from the west we needn't have to travel in sleeper class, we can step up to that 3rd rung on this complicated ladder to 3AC where all the middle class Indians settle down for their journeys.
We find a carriage and hunt up and down the aisle hoping for an empty couple of seats. "Are these free" we enquire to a group of women and children, they shake their heads. Does this mean yes or no, we think to ourselves? Shaking your head here can either mean yes, no, or a myriad of other things, we're still not quite sure what a shake of the head means, if anything at all. We search on thinking that their particular shake of the head means no. We ask someone else, they shake their head, this shake of the head we are guessing means yes. We place our luggage below the seat and wait for the ticket collector, being unable to relax until we've seen him as maybe he'll throw us back in the packed pissy part of the train. After the upgrade payment we can finally relax and actually enjoy the journey.

Our final destination for this part of our journey is Rishikesh for our 300 hour yoga teacher training course. The opening fire ceremony is in two days time and on arrival we have initial feelings that it is not looking very professional. We'd paid $700 deposit between us and the day after we arrive they want the rest of the money, another $2200. Erm, we think not! The day before the course kicks off we bring it to their attention that we are not happy doing a 300 hour course with the 200 hour students as we have both already attended 200 hour yoga teacher training programmes. "Give it 3 days, the course can then be tailored to your individual needs" say Doctor Sushil and Deepak. "Okay we'll give it 3 days and pay then if we are happy to continue". We've both kind of already made our minds up but have to be open to the fact that we haven't actually participated in any of their training yet. We are in the birthplace and yoga capital of the world, how bad could it actually be?
The answer is BAD! and not the Michael Jackson meaning of bad, not bad meaning good, but the oxford dictionary meaning of bad, or our meaning of bad, "shit".
The first class we attended we were doing advanced breathing techniques, without any instruction on how and what we were doing, the second class we attended, was the worst asana yoga class I had done in my life. Even worse than a class I attended in Forest hill which said it was yoga but what it actually was, well I wasn't quite sure.
One day of this was enough. I had come to the conclusion that I had kissed my deposit goodbye, it said as much on their website, "no refunds"! Allison for that matter chose to ignore that part of the script and was not about to say Adios to her deposit. We had a meeting with Doctor Sushil and she managed to get $200 out of him! After leaving she still continued her harassment via email and gained a further $200. Her deposit and some of mine has now been returned.

The confusing opening fire ceremony

There is so much Yoga happening here in Rishikesh, but after our initial disappointments, who do we trust and where do we go to do some yoga training?
A conversation in Tattv cafe with a Nepalese guy takes us to Yogi Pramod. A Rishikesh native (not a charlatan, and there are many here) who's been bought up from the age of 4 in local Ashrams but now teaches people the true art of yoga. The old ancient art that is passed down from guru to disciple, leave all materialistic things behind, love everyone, and look inwards for true clarity. We then had to part with our hard earned cash to be able to learn this old fashioned method. Our first impressions of this new style of yoga was, what the fuck are we doing here! Our yoga practise back home was generally a powerful form which generated, heat, sweat and enabled us to work out whilst having a good stretch. Now this was slow, even lethargic, but after day three we begun to feel the benefits. It was energy inducing, it was all about opening your chakras (energy centres), releasing and opening your spine. In layman's terms, you hold a lot of stress and tightness whether from injury or pent up emotions from the base of your spine all the way up to your skull. With his alien type of breath retention and spinal opening postures, you can release all that built up tension. We were both feeling lighter and even I started to feel more supple until my tooth started to hurt like hell!  

Allison & me collecting our certificates from Yogi Pramod, only white attire allowed in his yoga hut whilst practicing

I couldn't sleep, the pain was unbearable. The next morning I set off in search of a dentist. Aeran dental, a complete solution to all your dental problems the poster proclaimed. I went there, had a consultation, a couple of x-rays and boom, I needed a tooth extracted and a filling! With that he wrote down a price for the work that needed doing. Thanks but no thanks, it was more expensive than getting it done back at home, and we're in the cheapest country on earth!
Later I asked the guru Yogi Pramod if he had any information on dentists. He informed me of Dr Chetan Rayal. I went to this little local Indian dentist to perform my tooth extraction with Allison to hold my hand, it was less than a third of the price of Aeran dental. It was an altogether quite scary experience only made worse by the total lack of any form of sympathy, he ripped my tooth out then told me to get up, pay and leave, "come back on Monday so I can check", he mentioned whilst pushing us out the door.
He was actually quite a character and although quite rough, worked fast and I'd recommend him if you are ever in need of a dentist in this part of the world.

Dr Chetan Rayal, on my next visit I managed to catch him for a picture.

Rishikesh is a very spiritual place, it has three distinct areas, the town, then Laxman Jhula and Ram Jhula, both separated by two long suspension bridges. There is a plentitued of Ashrams here and the place became famous when the Beatles descended down their own spiritual paths and attended Maharishi Mahesh's Ashram to do some Transcendental meditation. I think they had got bored of taking acid and wanted a more natural high.

John, Paul, George, Ringo & Maharishi Mahesh

There are many sadhus (holy men) here. They give up all their worldly possessions and spend the early hours of each morning meditating and doing their holy rituals. At 11:30am they congregate outside an Ashram and queue up in a surprisingly orderly fashion and wait to be given a bhang lassi. A lassi is a yoghurt based drink, the bhang is that this particular lassi that these holy men are waiting for everyday is laced with marijuana. They drink their vitamin rich lassi and for the rest of the day sit spaced out in different areas along the Ganges. "Hari Om" (a very respectful greeting) they say as me and Allison walk passed. Metal tins are usually close by their sides, so any spare change you may have will help them with either some food or spliff, either, or, whichever they need most which is probably spliff. Not a bad life me thinks.

Characters out of a J.R.R Tolkien novel they are not, these are Sadhus or holy men

Talking of holy men, yesterday we attended a free Satsang (question & answer session) with Mooji. Now Mooji isn't your usual spiritual guru, me and Allison found it easy to relate to him. Perhaps it's because he was born in Jamaica and raised in Brixton from the age of 15. Or maybe it's just that he's down to earth and doesn't mince his words. His sister Cherry Groce was shot by police in 1985 sparking the Brixton riots.

Mooji

The whole question and answer session was interesting and highly amusing at times. From a woman who had found enlightenment and wanted to share it with everyone, to a guy that wanted to end it all, Mooji had some sound advice to offer. Sadly me or Allison couldn't think of anything to ask and left just before the end to get a seat at the amazing juice house.

A huge bowl of fruit, curd, muesli & honey from the amazing juice house

Allison and me in familiar surroundings of the juice house

Allison marching across Laxman Jhula bridge

The holy Ganges runs straight through Rishikesh

It's not only women that like to shop, apparently cows do too!

Agra

Like a lot of the other entries in the blog, we're usually starting with our mode of transport, so I'm going to continue in that vein, the only difference being this time round is that it was the worst journey so far, for one simple reason.

We caught the overnight sleeper train from Varanasi Junction to Agra Fort, and the pungent stench of urine in our carriage was actually quite unbelievable. On a scale of 1 to 10 on an Allison and Tom scale of previous urine smell experiences , this was off the chart.

A not too happy Allison on her bunk

You know in England you get that urine smell in public toilets, especially in the gents for some reason, not that I wander off into the ladies for a casual sniff, I just know their toilets don't smell as bad as ours. Anyway that public gents urinal smell is like a bed of roses compared to this. It was nauseating, even headache inducing, and we had to remain with this smell for over 12 hours, 2 extra bonus hours were added because the train ran fashionably late. So a hardy 14 hour piss smelling journey was undertaken to reach Agra Fort. Not only that but the guy in the bunk above me was doing the smelliest farts ever, ones that if I was doing them I would have been incredibly proud of myself, but to be breathing in someone else's gases combined with the pee in an enclosed space on a train is horrible!

On arrival we were picked up by a cab and taken to our homestay. 

Time to rest my weary hands and let Allison tell you about the rest of our stay in Agra.

We arrived at our homestay, showered, changed and had breakfast. We decided that we were going to have a complete sightseeing day as we were leaving in the morning. Our taxi arrived at 10am and we were off to see one of the seven wonders of the world, something I had always dreamt of seeing.

We were dropped off at the west gate, and made our way down to the payment area. Indians 20 rupees; Foreigners 750 rupees  (but that included a bottle of water and shoe covers)!

After paying, collecting shoe covers and water, we were approached by an Indian man who informed us of his knowledge of the Taj Mahal and had been a guide there for 10 years; he initially quoted a price of 975 rupees for one hour and eventually down to 500.  I further persuaded him to make it 400, which we shook on.

We walked through the grounds and through a small entrance way, where you could see a small part of the structure but when we stepped through the main gate and saw the Taj Mahal in full view - it was absolutely breathtaking - it was so overwhelming to see something that you normally see in pictures, right there in front of you. It was incredible. It's funny because I couldn't even speak whilst looking at this magnificent white structure that took 22 years to build.

I also felt quite sad in some respects but also happy, knowing that it was only a few years ago that my mum was here, and felt a connection to her,  perhaps because of what she may have had experienced here too - which brought warmth to my heart.

We wandered around with our guide who was happily explaining the history of this monument whilst getting him to take pictures of us together (another benefit of having a guide) and absorbing all the information.  Tom as per usual having a very short concentration span kept drifting off from what he was saying  and returning to the conversation a few minutes later.   When our guide finished his guiding duty, we paid him the original rate that he asked of 500 rupees and told him that we wanted to wander around at our leisure.

After circling the building, we took the stairs into the garden area, found a bench and sat just staring at the Taj Mahal.  I could have sat there all day just looking at it - I still cannot believe how amazing it actually is! But after around half an hour we made our way out of the garden taking several pictures en route and exited the grounds - next stop Agra Fort.

Unfortunately we did not know much about the history of Agra fort and opted out for a guide this time, but nevertheless it was interesting and beautiful to wander around... I tested my panoramic lens on my phone.......Not bad eh?!!! 

After the Fort we headed to the baby Taj Mahal - which was built in the 1620's.  This structure is a large tomb which has the symmetry of the Taj Mahal but a with very different look on a much smaller scale.  Inside it contains various tombs from history way back......

Baby Taj (Itmad-ud-Daula)

Our day was almost ending in Agra, but last on the agenda was a trip across the river to a quiet  spot where  we could watch the sunset behind the magnificent Taj. However, not so quiet as we were getting pestered by little kids either wanting chocolate or pens! We gave one kid a pen who ran off extremely happy then a few minutes later, along came his friend! Needless to say, pens (or chocolate for that matter) are not something we carry around in bulk! So he walked off -  a not so happy little boy!

A happy boy, with a pen 

At least it made a change from them asking for money!  Anyway... It was beautiful to see how the reflection of the sun could change the colours and the feel of the Taj Mahal...it was a beautiful day - visiting a place built upon love and devotion...mmmmmm....it was definitely worth the 14 hour piss smelling train journey!!!!   Next Stop - Rishikesh....

One last picture of the incredible TajMahal from across the river

Sensory overload in Varanasi

The journey was long and arduous, which consisted of a rickshaw to the little boat ferry, crossing on the boat, a rickshaw to Hospet train station, an overnight train of 10 hours to Bangalore city train station,

           

Allison on the overnight train

a taxi to Bangalore airport, a plane to Varanasi and finally a taxi to Hotel Ganesha. 

The taxi drive from Bangalore city railway station to Bangalore airport was of significance to me. The first western type of motorway we've seen since leaving home. It was in the early hours of Thursday morning, approximately 4 am and the driver had coaxed us into his cab and we were on our way at a probably inflated price of 1000 rupees, who were we to argue at this hour and feeling that tired. We were comfortably heading along the motorway and I briefly looked across the lanes to another taxi heading in the same direction, the driver looked like he could barely keep his eyes open, I thought to myself, thank God I'm not that passenger, I kept looking back to see if he'd remained awake, I then turned round and glimpsed the eyes of our driver in the rear view mirror. He was going boss eyed, his eyes were half closed and he was straining to keep them open.

Thoughts of an incident I'd attended at work entered my mind. A cabbie crashed his car taking a gentleman to Heathrow airport, killing himself and seriously injuring the passenger who's luggage was strewn all over the grass verge. There's no stimulant quite like the one of impending doom. I was now wide awake creating conversation with the Bengalaru cabbie, if I couldn't think of something to say I'd do loud, noisy, pretend coughs to keep his attention. We arrived at the airport safe n sound, unless I'm actually dead and writing this from the spirit world.
It took us just shy of 24 hours in total to reach our final destination of this part of our journey, Varanasi, one of the most religious cities on earth.

After dropping off our bags the hotel supplied us a free guide, Ajay who took us out on our first evening to have a brief walk along the ghats (river front steps that lead to the Ganges) as we were shattered. Free, but he liked telling us how much he was paid per month, so we think a donation is kind of expected.

The Ghats

On this our first introduction to Varanasi we were hit by an explosion to the senses. Sound, sight and smell are all attacked from every angle. This may have been heightened due to the fact we'd been travelling for nearly 24 hours so were greatly sleep deprived which amplified every bit of information sent to our sensory nervous system.   

On a bicycle rickshaw ride

The next day we were again met by our free guide Ajay, he'd had incredible reviews on tripadvisor but sadly me and Allison felt no connection with him. There was something lacking, and it wasn't just his skinny, scrawny self, something in his demeanour.

Perhaps he was tired of us westerners, or me and Allison just rubbed him up the wrong way. He'd just walk off in front paying us no attention along the busy, crazy roads and expect us to tuck in and tag along at his pace. We weren't bothered about the usual temple tour, we were more interested in the real Varanasi, the atmosphere, the people, the craziness and to somehow understand it. But understanding this place would take more than a days tour anyway.
We wanted to pay a visit to the Vishwanatha temple (Golden temple) but he was not keen to take us there so arranged for a friend to instead.
We managed to get into the temple after showing the tourist police our passports and claiming we were Hindu's, you have to be to gain entrance. I'm still flogging myself now from this deception. Although I did feel that practising yoga does enable you to say that you are studying a kind of Hindu philosophy, well at least there are some similarities. It was a strange experience, made all the weirder because of the initial deceit, "Ouch!" that hurt, as the flogging continues, but religion is built on forgiveness is it not?

We bumped into the English guy outside the Golden temple, and again later by the Ganges with his two friends

That evening we took a boat trip along the Ganges to take in some of the sights on the ghats, I was relieved that Ajay was not coming and it was only the driver of the boat but then he did not speak any English so we had no idea what was going on, Ajay come back!

I was desperate to have a go at rowing so using my signing skills, basically doing some air rowing, I wangled my way next to El Capitan

I was impressed with myself as I had to keep stopping as the boat would start to spin heavily in his direction. I'd wait for him to straighten it and then continue, but my power was just too great for this little Indian man.

I then wanted to take charge as he was going to slow for me, "out the way, let me take over". Man that oar he was holding was shit, the one I had been using was so much better. I kept spinning the boat in the same direction as before and couldn't use my left hand oar properly. After a few minutes my grip went and I was spinning out of control, I gave up, giving the captain full control of his boat back.

He may be little but he was good!

It was a nice and serene trip considering the intensity of some of the stuff that goes on.
The Hindu's deal with death a lot differently than us westerners. It's on show in full view, not hidden in nursing homes or retirement homes, you can see it. Bodies line up on the steps of Manikarnika ghat, bonfires blaze away as they burn the dead to give them moksha (release from the cycle of death and rebirth).

Photos are understandably frowned upon but I couldn't help myself, bodies align the steps on the right hand side of Manikarnika ghat

We turned back and sat on the boat at Dashashwamedh ghat watching the aarti ritual, a nightly worship to Shiva, the river Ganges and the whole universe.

Priests carrying out the ritual

The river Ganges itself, here in Varanasi is incredibly sacred but also extremely polluted. Faeces, dead bodies, highly toxic chemicals from upstream factories all add to the pollution. Does this matter? To us, yes it does matter, to Hindu's, no it doesn't. They bathe, swim, brush their teeth, wash their clothes and even drink this holiest of holy water. Again their immune systems must be made of more hardier stuff than ours.

 Bathing

 Bathing and doing their laundry, it's left to dry on the ghats where dirt and faeces are aplenty 

A young girl quenching her thirst, it's incredible

The next night I returned to Manikarnika ghat by foot to try and make sense of all the open cremations that go on. Allison had become ill and was in no way able to get out of bed and face the outside, so she holed up in our sanctuary of the hotel room, so I wandered along the ghats alone.
I had read reviews about the ghat, saying that there are a lot of touts in the area hustling for tourists to buy wood to help burn the dead. I had pre-empted how it might all be, quite an intense, stressful experience.
It wasn't! It was actually quite the opposite, calming, respectful, serene, with no hassle whatsoever. They would bring a covered body down the steps on a wooden stretcher whilst chanting. They would place the body on top of an unlit pile of wood. Blessing the body they would then light the fire from underneath, the body would burn and turn to ash. Very open and far from my preconceived ideas.

A man with his monkey

A character of Varanasi

The man you can barely see with white powder on his body is an Aghori, a sect of the Hindu religion. Many Hindu's practise the right way to reach God, the Aghori practise 'the left way', opposite to what others do. They eat animal faeces, drink urine, eat dead humans, practice necrophilia, smoke marijuana, drink alcohol, practise black magic, drink from human skulls. They believe that doing these things allows them to reach God quicker than if you follow the right way. They have a very interesting philosophy and are a very interesting group of people, perhaps I would bypass having a beer with one of these dudes though.

Ready to join the band

On our last day we again headed to Manikarnika ghat (cremation ghat), Allison needed to take a closer look for herself, now she was feeling a lot better. She found it strange that the cremations are so open for everyone to see. 

Like me but even more so she found the Ganges overly filthy and was unable to comprehend the extreme dirt and smell of the place. 

After having a nice meal at Aum cafe we step outside

A contradiction, a Mc Donalds in Varanasi, the furthest away from the western world in terms of lifestyle that we've ever been! Beef anyone? No way, as the cow is sacred here.

The intensity of this place has not diminished from that first evening we arrived, maybe after an extended period here you would get more numbed to how foreign it feels. The dirt, the shit, the piss, the noise, the serenity, the touts, the genuine people, the smell, the poverty, the money and the intense spirituality. This place makes absolutely no sense whatsoever to us, We can't comprehend it. It's a contradiction, It's just everything is so different from what we have come to know. Our clean house, our creature comforts, the bubble in which we live in. This place is like a heavyweight punch in the face "have that, now be on your way"! We don't want it to beat us, We want to understand it but can't seem to fathom how mad it all is. Would we ever come back, never say never.

Cows just freely roam the streets

Sadly there are loads of mangy dogs here

Today, night train to Agra, the Taj Mahal is waiting!

Bon Voyage