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Published: September 16th 2008
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I booked myself in for a night of luxury tonight at the posh Haveli Hari Ganga hotel, but I can't seem to get there. Just after I finished eating a fantastic dinner of Palak Paneer and butter naan with the soundtrack of lightning and thunder playing in the distant background, the sky opened and the rains began. And what a rain it is! Pouring water, dumping from the sky into the mud-drenched streets of Haridwar. I ducked into a hotel for shelter, and here I wait now, waiting for the rain to let up so I can get back to the hotel and crawl under the sheets of the huge, comfortable, luxurious bed.
I left the Ashram early this morning. At least, I tried to leave early. I awoke at 5:20am with the inconsiderate morning bell, and by 7:00am I was standing by the village bus stand, awaiting a jeep to pass by that could get me to Uttarkashi, where I would then find another jeep to take me the 6 hours south to Rishikesh. I was not alone, but traveling with Kapil, a young man from Delhi that also stayed in the Ashram. I was grateful to have someone
to travel with. He was a nice guy, and when he learned my age, nearly 10 years his elder, he quickly bowed to me, called me “Masi” and began to treat me something like an invalid - in both good and bad ways. Good, in that he carried my luggage, lifting it on and off vehicles, and wouldn’t let me lift a finger. Bad in that he treated me as all men seem to treat women here in India: as submissive beings that should remain silent, have no opinions, or take part in discussions or negotiations.
Now, we all know this does not sit well with me. What can I say, I like to be in control of my own plans. Or at the very least, I like to know - NEED to know - what is going on at all times. Yet Kapil took it upon himself to organize all travel arrangements, all too often telling me to “wait” or to “shhhh” or stay out of the discussions and let him handle everything. Needless to say, I went nuts more than once.
After more than an hour of standing around in front of the Ashram, finally a
jeep passed by and picked us up. A bumpy, winding ride packed into a jeep with a whole slew of strangers dropped us into Uttarkashi around 8:30am. It would be another three hours before we left for Rishikesh. As I said before, massive dose of patience required. First we loaded up our luggage on the jeep that was due to leave next, then waited. And waited. And waited. I ate a couple of samosas, wandered around, chatted up the cows. By 11:00 there were still not enough passengers to depart, so we pulled our luggage down, walked to the bus stop, only to learn that the next bus wouldn’t leave until 12:30pm. Next thing I know Kapil is walking away, leaving me on the side of the road, in the hot sun, with all the luggage, surrounded by cows, saying “wait here”, and basically disappearing. He had gone off to find a private taxi, but I didn’t know this. 30 minutes later he returned, me ready to go ballistic on him, and informed me that he found a driver that would get us out of there. I was trying really, really hard to pull together all those relaxing, meditative moments
I experienced during the last few days. Breathe in... breathe out...
Lesson learned: book a taxi ahead of time whenever traveling in remote villages in India.
The day was long. We eventually got going and made our way back down through the mountains along the winding, bumpy, narrow road. Zooming around cars, buses, cows, people, overtaking anything and anyone that dared get in the way. Once again, focus was on the beauty of nature outside, and on not throwing up the samosas. I asked Kapil to ask the driver (because as a woman I couldn't makes such direct inquiries) to take me to Haridwar, another hour south of Rishikesh. I wanted to get there specifically to stay at the Haveli, and because all the major trains departed from Hardiwar. It just seemed logistically easier. By the time we arrived it was 7:00pm: more than 12 hours it took to get here. After living in a prison cell with cold water showers for 4 days, and after this long and difficult day of travel, I wanted comfort. And so I went straight to the Haveli and checked myself into a large, cozy room. It turned out to be worth
every penny ($83/night - such a deal!).
Haridwar is a holy city, a place to where Hindu pilgrims travel and gather during the Yatra season to pay homage to their gods and the sacred Ganges River. When I arrived, it was packed alley to alley, wall to wall with Indian people. It was hectic and crowded, but exciting and alive with energy. I was one of maybe five foreigners that I saw in this town, and I loved it. Haridwar is a small yet bustling place, alcohol free, and purely vegetarian. And because mostly Indians visit here, the food is fantastic - geared toward local rather than foreign palates. After nearly a week of crappy food, I stuffed myself silly on anything tasty that I could find, with absolutely no fear of discovering traces of unwanted meat hiding amongst the veggies.
Still crouched in the doorway of this random hotel, I finally spot a bike cabbie that is willing to take me back to the Haveli in the heavy rains. He heaves and struggles to ride forward, pushing the bike’s surprisingly sturdy wheels through the 6 inches deep of brown, muddy water that have drowned the winding, maze-like
Ganga Arati
Hindu pilgrims and followers pay homage to the sacred Ganges River every night at sundown. Flowers and burning candles float down the river, flames and rhythmic chanting fill the black night. alleys of Bara Bazaar.
I am cold and wet and tired. I take a hot bath, give myself a facial and manicure, make some hot tea, and feel human again. Sometimes a girl needs a little pampering.
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