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The last couple of days have been quintessential of our "Indian experiences"; Tuesday offered up an array of experiences I wouldn't have missed for the world, Wednesday offered up an array of experiences I would have missed for anything, and today, amongst the worry of bombs exploding not too far from here, we've seen some amazing things that have made the danger of stepping out the front door worthwhile.
On Tuesday we packed our bags and said goodbye to the home that is Mama Cottage. With fond farewells (and much book exchanging) we said goodbye to our fellow travellers (by now our neighbours) and, of course, the diminutive Mama. We took to bus down to Hardiwar, with the requisite lunatic driver who seemed to actually speed up when flagged down by waiting passengers, who in turn had to sprint to catch up with the bus and jump aboard. At one point a man slipped down the stairs and we thought we'd lost him until he managed to grab the door frame at the last moment and haul himself aboard. In Hardiwar we managed to get train tickets on the night train to Amritsar, but not before they'd issued us with
The Ganges
There are people right up to the water's edge, and some people were in the river too (which would have been freezing, even with the day's high temperatures) a ticket for a 78 year-old Jason (who got a senior-citizen discount). Trying to change the ticket turned out to be more difficult that you'd ever imagine. Finally, I found myself on the wrong side of the ticket counters speaking to five different train employees and guards, and was charged an extra 800 rupees to rectify the mistake. Feeling ripped off, we tried to speak to the platform superintendent (in the largest office Jason and I had ever seen) who was little help, and finally stropped our way out of the train station and into Hardiwar.
Having spent a morning in Hardiwar the week before, we didn't feel the need to visit the temples again, and instead headed out to find lunch. Our chose restaurant has been shut down, or renamed, since the last LP guidebook came out (last year), but it turned out for the best as we had a delicious lunch elsewhere and then headed down to the river. Once there, we were regaled once more with the sight of bathers in the Ganges, and chose to linger a while. Three hours later, and we were still sitting, watching the river, with truly nowhere else to go.
The River on Fire
The lights in the water are prayer candles. Most of the candles get submerged, or are put out by the water During the three hours, however, we were begged and bothered and photographed beyond belief. Jason convinced me to be kind and let them take photos (so far I've resisted, finding it vaguely insulting) but it got a little out of hand. But then, as the sun went down, our wait (and harrassment) suddenly became worthwhile. We had noticed the crowds around the water's edge growing, and then the bells and singing started, prompting hundreds of prayer candles to be sent down the river. Truly amazing. It only lasted about 10 minutes before the crowds dispersed, but it was worth it, and feeling refreshed we headed back to the train station to eat our bread and jam dinner and hop on the night train.
Ah, the night train. Unlike our last night train from Delhi to Haridwar (which I could have raved about until the cows came home), this experience was pretty bad. We found ourselves in a three-tier carriage (which means there are three bunk beds on every available wall... you end up sharing a cubby-hole with five other people), and surrounded by screaming babies. We clambered into bed to find one of the men in our cubby-hole was one of the loudest snorers on the planet. Every hour or so we were awoken. Arriving in Amritsar, aching, headache-y, and nauseous, we hopped in a rickshaw and went straight to our hotel to pass out.
The owner of our hotel was greatly dismayed to find that we were not married, but wanted only one room. If we weren't the only guests in days (this being the "off" season) he might have even turned us away. Waking up several hours later, I realised something was very wrong. Cue several trips to several doctors, and the highest temperature I've ever had. Fearing I might die, the hotel owners kindly drove me to a nearby hospital in the middle of the night, and phoned their friend (the resident doctor) to come in and see me. Several hours later, with a huge array of medicines, I was feeling much better.
Today, in contrast, has been wonderful - a trip to a lovely memorial park (memorialising 2000 unarmed Indians killed by British troops during a peaceful protest - an Indian Tiananmen Square, if you will), and a trip to an absolutely amazing temple.
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